


in your shoes

by lydiamartin



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: ...kinda?, Angst with a Happy Ending, Body Swap, F/M, Keith and Shiro are Adoptive Siblings, Kimi no Na wa AU, Lance (Voltron) Has ADHD, M/M, Soulmate AU, Temporary Character Death, Trans Female Pidge | Katie Holt, alternative title: yeehaw motherfucker, emphasis on temporary, keith kogayne, lance is pretty and keith is a weak man, now with art!, there's long-distance pinning in this one
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-09-27 19:30:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 42,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10042412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lydiamartin/pseuds/lydiamartin
Summary: Hollywood did not prepare him for waking up in the body of a complete stranger.Keith tried not to stare at this person’s junk in the full-body mirror. He did not know them, and no matter what Pidge might say, just because he’s Texan it doesn’t mean he was raised in a fucking barn like a savage. He would not act like a savage.(Or, the one where Keith and Lance live in different cities but swap bodies – and angry love notes – multiple times a week.)





	1. the one where hunk is always right

**Author's Note:**

> i have no idea how this happened. one minute i was watching "kimi no na wa (your name)" and suddenly i had six pages written on word. if you haven’t watched the movie and are planning to, i’d suggest not reading this fic yet. it’s spoiler heavy regarding the plot, but otherwise it’s just a body swap au, so it doesn’t matter if you’ve watched the movie or not (actually i think it’d be even better if you hadn’t)
> 
> anyway, spanish translations can be found at the end! i’m a native speaker, so i’m sorry if some of my own slang seems out of place. thanks for reading!!

In the cinematic universe, it goes like this: Person A and Person B have some sort of antagonistic relationship. They can’t stand each other, spend the best of their screen time arguing and complaining about the other, but somehow the sexual tension between them is always undeniable. Cue in an astral meeting of sorts, maybe a shaman or a witch who offers them suspicious-looking drinks. Mix it all together and suddenly the main characters have swapped bodies and are on their merry way to falling in love.

Because love seems to always be the antidote, right?

Keith has seen his fare share of romantic comedies. He’s positive that if he went on Google, he’d find hundreds of films and shows based on this trope alone. But there is always a pattern, always a reason or a person who causes it. There’s a class trip to an ancient museum, a hiking in the woods, a small county fair. There’s always a clue.

Hollywood did not prepare him for waking up in the body of a complete stranger.

A very hot stranger with wide shoulders, long toned limbs, delicious brown skin and bright blue eyes. Also, a hot stranger who slept in his birthday suit. How nice.

Keith tried not to stare at this person’s junk in the full-body mirror. He did not know them, and no matter what Pidge might say, just because he’s Texan it doesn’t mean he was raised in a fucking barn like a savage. He would not act like a savage.

He will, however, act human. And humans are dirty, dirty liars.

“Hermano, what’s taking you so long? You still need to walk Emilio to school, in case you forgot.”

There was a girl standing in the doorway. Her eyes were a rich brown, her hair long and straight, but her features resembled the stranger’s. She was a smaller, darker version of him. Must’ve been his sister, or a relative.

Keith stared at her, covering the body’s dick with his hands.

She stared back.

“You know what, I don’t wanna know.” She slid the door closed behind her and stomped away, but not before shouting, “Just hurry up and stop hogging the bathroom!”

Keith faced the mirror again and took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the warm crisp air and smell of salt. Throwing one last look at between those toned thighs, he mentally readied himself to face whatever was outside the bathroom door.

 

* * *

 

Lance woke up feeling warmer than usual. Sweat dripped down his back and made the t-shirt cling to his skin. Funny, he didn’t remember ever putting it on before he went to bed. Nor did he remember any boxers. He liked sleeping naked, specially with the California heat always threatening to set the air on fire. Maybe he was too tired yesterday and forgot to undress?

Yeah, that must be it.

And he must’ve been hella tired. He didn’t even put his face mask on. Fuck, was that a zit about to come in? Of course, skip the routine one day and suddenly all hell breaks loose on his face. Just great.

He showered, he shaved, he moisturized. _Now_ he was good to go. Lance swung the door open and found his sister frozen before him, fist raised as if she were about to knock.

“Nice. You’re finally out.” Amanda looked him up and down, then smirked. Her already thin lips almost disappearing into a single, crooked line – the McClain trademark. “No staring at your dick today?”

Lance frowned and shoved past her. “What are you talking about.”

In the kitchen, he saw his mother placing a couple of waffles inside a Captain America lunchbox. Lance skid past Emilio, who munched on a plate of revoltillo like it had personally offended him, and snagged a waffle for himself. He leaned down and kissed his mother’s cheek.

“Hey, mami. Buenos días.” Lance took a seat next to Emilio and opened his mouth wide, ready to swallow the stolen good when it was swiftly snatched from his hands. “¡Mamá!”

Carmen shrugged, dropping the waffle back where it belonged. She ignored her son’s pouting in favour of cleaning the last dishes. “That’s not for you, tesoro. Now be a good son and eat your eggs.”

“Si, mami.” Lance dropped back into his chair and shoved a spoonful into his mouth.

Emilio, who hadn’t stopped stabbing the revoltillo, quirked a thin eyebrow perfectly. Another McClain trademark.

“He’s not acting weird today, ma.” Emilio whispered loudly. “Creo que ya se le pasó la locura.”

Lance narrowed his eyes at his brother. “¿A quién le dices loco, eh, pendejo?”

A whine escaped his mouth once he felt his mother smack the back of his head. “Oye, cuidado con esa boca.”

“He started it!”

“No, he didn’t. And Emilio’s right, anyway. You’re back to normal now.”

What was that even supposed to mean?

“Lance, yesterday you literally _couldn’t_ say a word in Spanish.” Looks like he said that out loud. Still, what was she even talking about? Lance McClain, forgetting his goddamn mother tongue? He’d definitely remember something like that. “You did say you were exhausted, though. Did you sleep well last night?”

“Uh, yeah. I think so.” Lance finished breakfast in record time and went to clean his plate, hoping to get more information about his so-called weird antics.

Yesterday, yesterday. What happened yesterday, anyway? His mind felt a bit foggy, as if the answers and memories were right there but just far enough.

“What, uh, what else did I do weird yesterday?”

“Well, you locked yourself in your room right after you came back, so I wouldn’t know. Maybe you should ask Hunk about it.”

Maybe he would.

Just then, Amanda sauntered into the kitchen, backpack slugged over one shoulder. Lance took that as his cue and didn’t dare waste more time, grabbing Emilio by the armpits and raising him from the chair. Wailing could be heard from down the hallway.

“Looks like someone’s awake.”

After a dozen of kisses from their mother, and even louder sobs from his baby sister, Lance finally walked out of the house, a backpack hanging off one shoulder each with Emilio in hand.

Amanda had parted ways at the bottom of the hill, up the road where the town’s one and only middle school was located. Lance, on the other hand, didn’t mind walking Emilio. Arus Elementary was only a few minutes from the boardwalk, and therefore just a small trek from Hunk’s house, who usually joined him on the way to their own school.

Emilio was swinging his lunchbox from side to side as they walked, and Lance lost himself wondering why his little brother’s bag was heavier than his. What were they even teaching The Youths™ these days? Was he carrying rocks in there or something?

A loud honking sound ripped him away from his thoughts.

Hunk waved one of his thick arms from the driver’s window, all smiles and bright brown eyes, and Lance was sure that a field of tulips must have blossomed somewhere and at least eight kittens must have been born. That was the power of Hunk Garrett’s happiness – a force to be reckoned with.

Hunk’s old Jeep, an ugly mustard color with splotches of brown on the doors, slowed to a halt next to Lance and his brother. Sitting on the passenger seat was Shay, whose muscled arms and soft smile rivalled Hunk’s own purity.

“Guess who’s a genius mechanic!”

“Shay. But what else is new.” Lance replied easily.

Hunk glared. “Can’t fight you on that, but I meant me. Yellow’s up and running again! Honestly, I had lost all hope on getting this boy fixed at our shop. Thought I’d have to take him down to the next town over, but my uncle bought some new parts online and they arrived yesterday evening.” He patted the dashboard lovingly. “I basically spent all night tinkering but let me tell you, dude, it was definitely worth it.”

Lance grinned. “That’s great news, man. I was starting to miss Kaltenecker, anyway.”

Shay and Emilio shared confused glances as Hunk rolled his eyes. “His name’s Yellow. Always has been and always will be. I seriously don’t get why you insist on calling him the name of your favourite dead cow.”

“Kaltenecker was my best friend before you even existed. You don’t have the right to insult his memory.”

“You don’t have the right to rename my car.” Hunk reached behind himself and opened the door to the backseat. “Hop in. We can drop Emilio off on the way.”

Emilio had already climbed inside before Hunk even finished his sentence.

It was only when he shuffled into his first period, striding past the masses of still-confused freshmen and exhausted senior classmates, that he remembered to ask Hunk about the day before.

“Hey, buddy. Quick question for you.” Lance leaned across his desk to drape his upper body over Hunk’s. “Out of pure curiosity, was I, yesterday, in any way or instance, acting–“

“Like someone had taken over your body or sent in a clone who was trying, then failing, at pretending to be you?”

Lance blinked. “That is, uh. Weirdly specific.”

“What Hunk means,” Shay interjects from the row behind them. “Is that you were totally out of it. You didn’t know where your classes where, or where to sit, and spaced out the entire time.”

“I had to call your name six times at lunch. Trust me, I counted.”

“And I don’t doubt that.” Lance clicked his tongue. Hunk’s theory was maybe going a bit too far, but he couldn’t deny that _something_ had happened. His mind had built a brick wall around his memory, and he couldn’t seem to find cracks where to slip through. “I just can’t seem to remember anything about yesterday. I’m coming up blank.”

“Maybe you were dissociating?” Shay suggested. “Or it could be an isolated case of retrograde amnesia.”

Hunk frowned. “That sounds kind of alarming.”

“I’m just listing off possible causes. I’m not saying he’s amnesiac–“

“You just did.”

“But we can’t rule it out. The human brain is so unnecessarily complicated. He could be developing a personality disorder, for all we know.”

Hunk suddenly perked up. “Bro, did you take your meds yesterday?”

“Even if I hadn’t, I don’t think this has anything to do with ADHD.” Lance explained. “Spacing out is one thing, but absolutely forgetting an entire day of my life – yesterday, qué carajo – can’t be a side effect. And you said it yourself, I didn’t know where I was standing.”

Logically, he knew there had to be a reasonable explanation that had nothing to do with cloning or identity theft. Dissociating sounded about right, but to do so for an entire day and basically forgetting who he was? Nah. Something was off.

“McClain!”

Lance raised his eyes in alarm. When did Iverson even get there? Nevermind, Iverson was a demon who could smell fear and fed himself off his student’s self-esteem – especially Lance’s. He would not give him the satisfaction of having breakfast at his expense.

“Yes, sir?”

Iverson laughed, a short burst of sound like scratching nails on a chalkboard. “Good to know someone remembers his last name today.”

What the fuck was yesterday, seriously.

“Pay attention, McClain. You don’t even have the book on the table. Is this how you expect to pass my class? At least do something right for once in your life and read the third paragraph out loud. We’re on page fifty-two.”

Lance hurriedly flipped his textbook open, skimming through the pages until he found the one Iverson was talking about. He opened his mouth to begin reading but something on the previous page almost made him bite his tongue.

His breath caught.

Beneath the chapter’s title stood a question, three little words, written in bright blue gel pen. _His very own bright blue gel pen_ , but the handwriting was definitely not Lance's. Too thin, too sharp and too sloppy.

 

**WHO ARE YOU?**

 

What is this what is this what does this mean why can’t i remember–

“McClain!” Iverson’s loud growl broke him out of his trance. “I am not going to put up with you today, boy. _Read the paragraph_.”

 

* * *

 

 

When Lance was barely older than a toddler, he asked his mother to teach him how to knit. From what Lance had observed, due to the innate curiosity children possessed, Carmen McClain was the best knitter in the world, maybe the universe. An expert who made everything from bags to dresses, to scarves, and even shoes. Baby shoes, sandals, mufflers. His mother could knit anything.

But it wasn’t her clothes what Carmen was known for. No, it was something much simpler and so much more complicated at the same time.

Knitted bracelets.

It sounds silly, that a woman could be so acclaimed and praised for knitting bracelets, but it was true. And really, Carmen McClain deserved every bit of the praise she got. The patterns she weaved through were unique to every single one of her creations.

You’d never be able to find two bracelets with the same patterns, not unless they were matching bracelets. Even then, a matching bracelet set would still show differences between each piece. The threads were pulled in carefully, lovingly, in different shades and with different types of wool sometimes, raging from simple geometric designs to ancient patterns from different cultures.

There was also a story behind the bracelets Carmen made. Once tied around your wrist, you were supposed to make a wish. The bracelet should never be untied, no matter the circumstances. You were supposed to wait it out, let the wool disentangle itself until it ripped or the knot loosened – and if that happened, congratulations. Your wish would be granted.

Lance’s oldest sister, Debbie, already knew how to knit, and he suspected that Dante could too, even if he never joined their late-night knitting sessions. Lance loved his mother’s bracelets, and he could only hope to make something as beautiful as hers someday.

So, at the tender age of four, Lance begged his mother to teach him how to knit.

“You’re leaving gaps between your threads, again. What’s on your mind, tesoro?”

Now, at the soggy age of eighteen, Lance was messing up his second bracelet in a row.

He was alone with his mother tonight. Amanda didn’t care much for knitting, and Emilio was still too new to the art to handle all knitting sessions, settling for learning on the weekends instead.

A bubbly, giggling sound erupted from Baby Lily, who rolled around in her purple blanket and pawed at the balls of yarn like a cat.

Okay, so he wasn’t completely alone with his mother. But, you know, semantics. Lily was a baby, anyway. Not exactly meaningful company right now.

“I’m fine.” Lance deflected her question. He didn’t feel like voicing his worries. “Is papá not back yet?”

Carmen paused her knitting, staring hard at the piece in her hands. “No. I’m not sure when he’ll be back, to be honest. The whole campaign thing is taking its toll on him, but your father refuses to leave all the work to his team, even at night. You know how he is. He _needs_ to personally make sure everything is working just right.”

“I still don’t understand why the campaign’s even necessary,” Lance shook his head. “He’s been the town’s mayor like, twice already. He’s basically got no competition, either.”

His mother gave him a tired smile. “I think he just enjoys the stress.”

Lance flinched. “ _How_.”

Talking with his mother was easy, and as night time rolled around, he got carried away in the repetitive pull of the wool. Hours later though, when he finally lied on his bed again, face mask already drying and headphones on his nightstand, he couldn’t get _the thing_  out of his head. He couldn't help but wonder about that question on his book again.

Lance groaned and snatched his school bag from where it rested on the floor, bringing the book back to bed with himself. He looked for page fifty-one.

 

**WHO ARE YOU?**

 

The words hadn’t changed, and the handwriting was the same. It wasn’t an illusion then. Someone had written that, and he had a feeling that it hadn’t been any of his classmates. At the same time, he also didn’t feel that he had been to one to write this.

His mind was fuzzy again.

A shrill, boisterous and invasive sound made him open his eyes and fall from the edge of his bed. Lance hadn’t realised he had closed them, but his limbs felt heavy with sleep somehow. He hit the ground with a flat _thud_ , banging his right arm against the floorboards. The sound wouldn’t stop.

Lance made a blind grab for his cellphone, finding it next to him on the floor as well. He didn’t think twice before pressing ‘Snooze’ on the alarm and promptly deciding that the floor was comfortable enough to fall back asleep on.

Wait.

Since when did he set alarms for _anything at all_?

His eyes shot open again and this time he was able to take in his surroundings. Daylight, and not moonlight, was streaming from the windows. The floor he lied in was wooden, and not a carpet. The walls were white and not blue, completely bare save for the cork board hanging right in front of his bed. The bed here was small, just like his own, but these sheets had the words _I WANT TO BELIEVE_   printed all over in different fonts.

He wasn’t home. This wasn’t his room.

Lance ran a hair through his hair, eyes wildly scanning the bedroom he was in. When his hand reached his nape, he froze. His hair felt much, much longer than normal. And why was it so greasy?

Lance chanced a look at himself and almost shrieked at the sight.

His skin was white. Marble white, or maybe a light cream. It was so pale, and so, so different from his beautifully soft brown skin. He didn’t look as gangly, either. His legs looked strong, albeit a bit shorter, and his thighs were definitely harder and thicker. He lifted the cotton t-shirt, just over his belly button, and was met with a new six-pack. Holy shit, he was ripped.

There was no mirror in the room, apparently, so he ran to what he hoped was a bathroom.

His jaw dropped.

First, he was definitely not in his body anymore. Nope, this just wasn’t him. The face staring back at him was downright gorgeous, in an _I ride a cool bike and go through three packs of cigs a day_ bad boy sort of way. Also, this face was distinctly Asian, and had the most beautiful dark eyes he’d ever seen. Lance thought he was pretty good-looking himself, in the hot surfer kind of way, but this guy took the fucking cake.

And since no human being could ever be perfect, this person also had a major flaw in their physique.

The guy had a motherfucking mullet.

Lance was torn between laughing hysterically and screaming in despair. Here he was, looking at himself in the mirror and seeing a complete stranger instead, after waking up in a room that was most definitely not his own, and standing in a house that clearly wasn’t his either.

 _Identity theft_ , a voice that sounded suspiciously like Hunk’s whispered in his mind.

God, he hated when Hunk was right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _tesoro - treasure (term of endearment, mostly used by family or significant others)_   
>  _creo que ya se le pasó la locura - i don’t think he’s acting crazy anymore (not literal but u kno)_   
>  _¿a quién le dices loco, eh, pendejo? - who’re you calling crazy, huh, asshole?_   
>  _oye, cuidado con esa boca - hey, careful with that mouth_   
>  _qué carajo - what the hell_
> 
>  
> 
>    
> also, many latinxs call their parents ‘mami’ or ‘papi’, so please don’t take the use of those terms as something sexual in this fic. 
> 
> thank you so much for reading!! i hope you guys liked it and if there are any mistakes or if you felt uncomfortable with anything, don't hesitate to tell me
> 
> you can also find me on tumblr (@angejolras)!


	2. the one where keith is an axe murderer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance struggles™ with life as an emo cowboy and everyone in the Bay Area is too pretty for him to handle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow i didn’t expect this kind of response?? thank you so much for reading guys!! this chapter turned out way longer than i thought it would be but i’m happy with it (maybe). i’m still new to writing for this fandom but i hope i’m doing the characters justice. especially mi amor lance, who i would die for, no questions asked.
> 
> as always, spanish translations at the end!

Here’s a list of things Lance’s found out so far:

  * Mullet was a goddamn goth. After checking out this person’s (notably limited) wardrobe, Lance reached the conclusion that a man who owned more than five skin-tight black t-shirts and a fucking _leather jacket_ couldn’t be anything but a loyal Hot Topic costumer. The only hint of color he could find was red plaid.


  * Ebony Dark’ness Dementia Raven Way went to high school, if the texts from a certain ‘Pidge’ person about him skipping first period were anything to go by. Lance could only hope the guy was a senior like him. He didn’t know where he was supposed to go, though. Enoby had a map on his wall, subway stations and bus stops highlighted, but with no indication of where his school was. Which brings us to our next point.


  * Mullet Man was a psycho? Maybe? Lance wasn’t sure what to think, but the cork board hanging before him didn’t give him many options. There were threads connecting different dots in the city map, all color coded apparently, and sketchy pictures were taped beside each dot. It seemed like a serial killer’s network of sorts. Fuck, did he swap bodies with an axe murderer?


  * Lance would’ve been shitting his pants about the former discovery if he hadn’t found out something even more overwhelming: Mullet was not alone in this apartment. Oh no, he lived with a Greek God™. Well, an Asian God™. All Lance saw was the human embodiment of a dorito. Cropped black hair with a tuff of white and winged eyeliner so perfectly done it put his own sister’s to shame. His pecs were threatening to break the shirt’s buttons and _that jawline._



But that wasn’t all, no sir. This man had a scar across the bridge of his nose, a long stripe, which Lance also found attractive and, wait for it. He had the coolest prosthetic arm he’d ever seen. It didn’t look real, clearly robotic and so fucking advanced. Lance knew Hunk would kill to tinker with something like that. Well, not kill, because he’s Hunk, and Hunk has his ways of getting what he wants by saying things like ‘please’.

Anyway, Dorito Man had a badass metal arm that could rival Winter Soldier’s, and that was another unopened can of worms entirely. But no matter how threatening he looked, his smile looked kind and, frankly, very tired. And he still managed to look hot.

“Keith, are you listening to me?”

Lance got pulled down from the clouds by that deep, soothing voice. Was he a roommate? Brother? If they were, in fact, brothers then _hot damn_ did their parents have some strong genes. Oh shit, but what if he wasn’t his brother. What if he was a boyfriend. What if he was—

“You’re lucky I’m an early riser.” Dorito Man said. “But that doesn’t change the fact that today was your turn to make breakfast.”

Lance looked at where the guy was pointing. There was a calendar pinned to the fridge’s door, and every day of the week had a name scrawled over the date. Just like the cork board, the calendar was also color coded. Some days had ‘Keith’ written in stark red, and the rest were labeled as ‘Shiro’ with a black marker.

Shiro was right. Today was a Keith Day.

Which brings us to the last, shocking discovery in Lance’s travesty.

  * Mullet’s name was Keith. Keith, the gorgeous stranger. Keith, a true goth. Keith, possibly an axe murder. Keith, Keith, _Keith_. What an awful, stupid name. Not that he had anything against Keiths. Lance was sure that there were many perfectly nice, good-mannered people named Keith who didn’t lack a fashion sense. Keith Urban was pretty chill, right?



Yeah, Keith was a stupid name. But only because it was this guy’s name. Nothing personal, folks.

Shiro fumbled with his keys. “I’ll be going now, and you should too. Just leave your plate inside the dishwasher, okay? You’re already late and I really don’t feel like answering more calls from the administration.”

Lance shot him a grin. “Yeah, sure. Don’t worry about it, Shiro.”

Shiro looked at him for a long while. His dark eyes narrowed and Lance’s grin faltered. Shit, did he screw up already?

“Uh, okay then. Call me when your shift’s over. Want me to pick you up today?”

Lance nodded, not trusting himself to speak again.

As soon as Shiro was out the door, Lance let himself slump against the nearest wall. How was he supposed to go through a whole day of this? He loved soap operas, but he never wanted to be a part of them.

Lance took his french toast with him to sit by the living room window. He couldn’t keep the smile off his face anymore.

He was in San Francisco.

After living his entire life in the middle of ass nowhere in the California coastline, he was finally in a big city by himself. The constant bustling of rush hour, the honking of cars and the Golden Gate on the horizon – Lance was charmed.

He checked Keith’s phone. Pidge had texted him again, warning that some guy Coran had taken a test or something.

Well, he was already late. Might as well try to dig up some dirt on this guy, right?

He started with the obvious choice – Keith’s bedroom. In his waking panic, Lance hadn’t been able to pay attention to every little detail. Maybe there was something in there that would tell him where Lance was supposed to go.

Aside from that goddamn cork board, the walls were completely bare. However, there were a couple of pictures on his nightstand. The first showed pre-teen Keith, with hair going past his shoulders (did no one ever take this kid to a fucking hair salon?) and laughing, trapped in the middle of a headlock. The other guy looked happy as well, and Lance was almost 99.9% sure it was Shiro on that picture. He looked so much younger, with jet black hair in a military cut and no scar running along his nose. He had both arms.

Lance moved his eyes from the image, feeling as if he had intruded on something.

The next picture showed Keith, maybe a year younger, with hair cropped at the back and grimacing at the camera. He had a cowboy hat with a fucking golden star on top of his head. Leaning next to him stood a girl with big rounded glasses and a red wig pulled in two braids, wearing a vest over a long-sleeved shirt. Lance prayed that this was taken at Halloween and not at some sort of rodeo-like event Keith frequented.

“Please don’t be a real cowboy.” Lance whispered in horror.

His search, however, did pay off. Lance found a red basketball jersey on a corner of the room. On the front it read 'PALADINS' in bright white lettering. On the back, the number four and the name ‘KOGANE’ under it.

_Keith Kogane._

Lance quickly unlocked Keith’s phone, thanking God that this guy was stupid enough to not have a passcode, and went on Google. He wrote the full name and, just to be sure, added the word ‘Paladins’.

He found a small sports newsletter on San Francisco’s varsity teams. He clicked on the first article he found.

Garrison High’s Paladins. _Bingo._

 

 

* * *

 

  
_Google Maps is a fucking blessing_ , Lance thought as he made his way through the halls of Garrison High School. It took him an hour and a wrong bus connection to get here, but he made it through. Mama didn’t raise no quitter.

Then he was tackled from the back, and Lance re-thinked his life choices.

“Where the hell were you all morning? You didn’t even answer my texts.”

Lance faced a small demon. Ah, this was Pidge.

Her hair was completely chopped, though. It looked like Keith and Pidge had somehow swapped hair-lengths since the picture in his bedroom had been taken.

“Uh, I slept in.” Lance lied. “Sorry, I kind of forgot it was a school day.”

Pidge narrowed her eyes. “Bullshit. Did you stay up all night watching _Ancient Aliens_ again?”

 _No jodas_. Keith wouldn't do that, would he?

“Maybe, maybe not.” Lance walked past her, face straight and without knowing where he was supposed to go. “Let’s just head to class, alright?”

“Class is the other way, dumbass.” Pidge called after him. Lance turned around, nonplussed, and followed Keith’s friend down the hall. “You’re looking more sleep deprived than usual.”

“Well, I’m not. Chill out, Pidge. I’m here now, aren’t I?”

Pidge paused.

“Did you seriously just tell me to chill.”

Mierda, rewind, rewind. Backtrack the fuck out of this shit.

“Uh, no?” Lance winced when his voice cracked.

Pidge stared at him with calculating eyes and Lance was sure he had been found out. So much for a career in acting. He should’ve joined Drama Club instead of the swimming team. What good was learning to swim competitively if now he was drowning in his fucking lies?

“I’m onto you, Kogane.” Pidge finally spoke. “You’re hiding something, and I’m gonna find out what that is.”

Lance laughed nervously. He cleared his throat and levelled Pidge with a look he hoped fitted Keith. “Now who’s been watching too many conspiracy documentaries?”

Pidge cracked a smile and Lance almost cried with relief.

Classes went by smoothly. Lance was maybe a little too hyperaware of his surroundings, but thankfully he didn’t drift away or lose himself in his thoughts. In fact, he actually concentrated for once and answered whenever the name ‘Keith’ or ‘Kogane’ was called. It occurred to him that he hadn’t even taken his pills that morning.

Lunch rolled around and Lance was beginning to think that maybe Pidge was Keith’s only friend. No one else seemed intent on talking to him and Lance noticed how some people looked a little on the side of bewildered when he addressed them, even if just to ask for a pencil. Lance was a social butterfly himself, but he understood that some people were more private than others.

Lance met Pidge by the school gates when the day was over and walked with her to the bus stop. Thanks to Shiro, Lance knew that Keith worked after his classes. Now if he only knew _where_.

“You headed to Altea right now?”

Pidge was _not_ a demon, Lance took it back. Pidge was a blessing.

“Yeah, I’ve got a shift today.”

“You have shifts _every day_. I’m kind of impressed, though.”

“Because of how amazing an employee I am?” Lance gloated with a smirk.

Pidge snorted. “Because Allura hasn’t fired you yet.”

“Hey!” Lance balked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re a shitty waiter, Kogane. You suck at customer services. Actually, you suck at people in general.” Pidge nudged him teasingly. “Are you sure Allura didn’t just hire you out of pity?”

Lance scowled, feeling weirdly defensive over Keith. Sure, he didn’t know the guy, but he couldn’t be trapped in an idiot’s body. If socialization was Keith’s main issue, then Lance would fix it for him. Hell, he was going to work so hard today that this Allura person would have no choice but to name him employee of the month.

“We’ll see about that, Pidgey. We’ll see about that.”

Pidge raised an eyebrow at the nickname but didn’t comment further.

“Where’s your bike, anyway?”

Lance paled. “M-my bike?”

“Did Shiro confiscate it again or something?”

“No, no, no.” Lance shook his head wildly, that freaking mullet moving along with him. “I just didn’t feel like bringing it today. Yeah, that’s it. I didn’t feel like it.”

He heard a bus skidding to a stop behind him.

Lance could feel a bead of sweat running down his temple.

“Okay?” Pidge said slowly, clearly unconvinced. “Well, I gotta go. Things to see, governmental institutions to hack into. You know, the usual.”

Right, _the usual._

Lance nodded faintly. “Sure, sure. Uh, good luck with that?”

Pidge saluted him and disappeared into the sweaty mess that was public transportation.

Alright, Google Maps. Time to be useful.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Keith, table five’s been waiting for over twenty minutes! Where are those chicken strips?”

Okay, waiting tables wasn’t as easy as it looked. It required amazing balance and a good memory, both of which, at least for today, Lance lacked.

Allura’s constant shouting in his ear wasn’t helping either. At first, Lance had been too overwhelmed by her ethereal beauty to even speak properly. Seriously, was everyone in San Francisco naturally hot? She looked like a goddess, with her long white hair cascading down her back and beautiful brown skin to contrast. She was tall, too – taller than Keith at least. Lance guessed she was somewhere near his own height. And fuck, she looked amazing in heels. Allura could totally step on him and Lance would thank her for doing so.

She was, however, a ruthless manager.

Allura approached him with quick, forceful strides. Lance managed not to drop the dishes he was carrying.

“Keith, what is wrong with you today?” She demanded, features pulled tight but eyes laced with concern. “You’ve messed up almost all of your orders. If you were ill or something, you should’ve called in. You rarely take breaks, I would’ve given you a day off.”

Also, Allura was British. Granted, it was hard to understand her sometimes, but Lance thought she sounded like a benevolent queen looking down on her people.

“I’m really sorry.” Lance bowed his head. “I have no excuses for this. I’m just not at the top of my game right now.”

“I can see that.” Allura sighed and clapped his shoulder. “Just make sure all tables get what they ordered. You’re on clean up duty tonight.”

So much benevolence.

“It’s okay, kid.” One of the cooks patted his arm. “We all got rough days.”

Lance felt a smile forming on his face. Finally, a gentle soul. “Thank you, Thace. I’ll be better tomorrow, promise.”

At least Keith would be, if Lance woke up in his own body next morning.

Food came and went, dirty dishes piling rapidly in the sink. Lance couldn’t feel his arms anymore, but he soldiered on. Only one more table and he’d be done for the day.

Just as he had set the last plate of soup on the table, one of the costumers sitting there called for his attention.

“Boy, I am not paying for this.”

Lance looked up, startled.

The man wore a nasty grin as he motioned to his plate of creamy mushroom soup. “There’s a fly in there. It’s completely anti-hygienic and I refuse to pay for this.”

Lance blinked. He’d just set that dish down, there was no way a fly would’ve drowned in there so soon. Lance had checked. Lance hadn’t overlooked a _fly._

“Sir, I’m sorry, but there was no fly there when I brought your food—”

“Are you calling me a liar, boy?” The man’s eyes flashed, but his grin didn’t waver. “If I say you brought me soup with a dead fly on it, _then you brought me soup with a dead fly on it_.”

Lance was about to protest again when Allura stepped in.

“Is there a problem, sir?”

“Yes, it is. As you can see, there’s a dead fly in my soup.”

Allura frowned, lips pursing, but nodded at the customer. “We apologise for that, sir. Your meal will be on the house, and we’ll make sure to bring you another plate of soup.” She turned to Lance and whispered, “Go to the back and let me handle this.”

Lance turned on his heel and stomped away, unable to get that man’s awful smile off his head. He was sure they’d been scammed, but he couldn’t risk making a scene and having Keith lose his job because of him.

Allura returned to the staff room and looked at him silently.

“I’m surprised you didn’t lash out like you usually do.” Allura said. “You handled that better than I thought you would, Keith.”

Lance breathed a sigh of relief. “It still doesn’t feel right to let him get away with that.”

“I know.” She conceded. “But it wouldn’t have done us any good to fight with a customer. I’m glad you kept your cool, though. Colour me impressed.”

Lance chuckled nervously, flushing at the praise. Allura was about to return to the dining area when Lance noticed a long rip at the back of her skirt.

“Wait!” He stopped her by the wrist. “Your skirt—“

“Oh, dear.” Allure turned the fabric in her hands. An horizontal line cut through the fabric. Lance had a feeling he knew who had done it. “Must’ve been that asshole. I didn’t even feel anything.”

Lance perked up. “I could sew it for you.”

Allura’s eyes widened. “You know how to sew?”

“Yeah, I’m quite good at it, if I say so myself. Do you have any thread around here?”

“Maybe there’s some in my office. Follow me.” Allure grabbed his wrist and ushered him inside the room. Before she closed the door, Lance got a glimpse of the shocked (and some jealous) stares from the cooks and other waiters.

Allura swiftly removed her skirt.

Lance’s jaw dropped. _Gracias Jesús, María y José_. Judging by the warmth on his cheeks, Lance could tell he was blushing, but he didn’t care about that stuff anymore. Dios, he couldn’t believe his luck–

Then the skirt landed on his lap and pink thread was set before him. Allure had covered herself with a coat.

Lance cleared his throat and moved quickly through a simple pattern, sealing the hole in the skirt.

Allura hummed. “I had no idea you could do this.”

“It’s just something I’ve always done. You know, they used to call me The Tailor back home. Because of how I _thread the needle_.” Lance wiggled his eyebrows.

Allura scrunched up her nose in a mix between disturbed and confused.

“Back home?”

Goddamnit, Lance.

“You mean Texas?”

“Yes!” Lance all but shouted. “Yes, back in Texas. That’s right. I’m Texan.”

And wasn’t that the icing on the fucking cake? Keith was actually a goddamn cowboy.

“You’re acting weird today, Keith.” Allura laughed and threw him a wink. “But it’s not a bad weird.”

Just bury Lance alive. It’d be easier.

Shiro picked him up barely ten minutes after he’d called. Once home, Lance ate in comfortable silence with Keith’s brother (cousin? roommate?), the TV playing some comedy reruns. He finished fast and locked himself in his room to avoid screwing up around Shiro. Then he decided he’d do Keith’s homework. The coursework wasn’t that different, anyway. If someone was in his body, he’d be very thankful if they did his homework, too.

Then he remembered.

  
**WHO ARE YOU?**

  
Lance grabbed a marker from the many pens scattered around the desk. It was bright red, but he knew it would be readable on Keith’s pale skin. He wrote quickly in bold letters and waited for it to dry before calling it a day and plopping into Keith’s bed.

He was resetting Keith’s alarm so that he wouldn’t sleep in the following morning when an idea struck him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

  
Keith had a love-hate relationship with his alarm.

He needed it, couldn’t live without it, but he despised it with every fibre of his being. Today, his alarm sounded just a little too close and too loud for his liking.

Keith raised his phone and muted the shrilling noise. His brows furrowed. There was something scribbled on the palm of his hand.

  
**LANCE**

  
Keith brought brought both hands to his face, squishing his phone against his cheek. He let out a long groan.

Yesterday hadn’t been a dream.

He could see Lance’s pretty blue eyes behind his closed lids. He cursed his gay self.

Keith checked his phone again and noticed a red pop-up with the number ‘1’ on top of the Notes section. He clicked on the app and opened the most recent entry.

He almost choked on his own spit.

 

**[ NEW ! ]**

  
_heyy keithy boy!!_

_if ur reading this then it means that my theorys correct and we totally swapped bodies like some freaky friday shit. i didnt really enjoy it but it was a cool experience tbh_

_just thought u should know that u basically missed a test yesterday and that pidge was definitely onto us idk. oh!! and at the restaurant there was this asshole who ripped alluras skirt for some reason?? anyway i sewed it for her so i totally won u brownie points with her!! shes p hot man, u should go for it_

_also do the world a favour and cut ur mullet!! were not in the 80s anymore man_

_xoxo lance_

 

  
Keith’s eyes moved from the screen to his palm, then again, then again.

He was so screwed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _no jodas - you’re shitting me (at least in this context)_  
>  _mierda - shit_  
>  _gracias jesús, maría y josé - thank you jesus, mary and joseph_  
>   
> 
> i’ve been sick in bed for a few days so i don't know if this helped speed the process up or if it slowed it. we’ll see how soon i’ll have next chapter up then.
> 
> i love all of your comments, it makes me feel like actual are people are reading it, so keep them coming guys!


	3. the one where shiro gains new war flashbacks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith tests a few theories and Iverson's patience. Lance retaliates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my hand slipped
> 
> edit & warning: there is fanart with partial nudity included in this chapter! don't know if it counts as nsfw and if i should move the rating up or not, but just a heads up. the image shows a butt and it's almost at the end of the chapter.

At first, Keith had thought that the whole body-swapping incident would be an isolated event. He’d done his research in a frenzy, ignoring Shiro’s pounding on his door telling him to leave his room and _eat something_ in favour of watching an embarrassing amount of movies about this. Popular culture and internet sources alike all pointed out that this phenomena usually conveyed some sort of lesson for the parties involved.

Keith hadn’t learned a single thing from his experience.

In fact, he’d only made a fool of himself in front of Lance’s family and friends. Keith had been so confused that day he’d nearly forgotten how to speak altogether. Then Lance’s mother had begun firing questions in Spanish and Keith’s brain short-circuited.

However, there was another thing all body-swapping stories had in common.

The Switch, as Keith had labelled it, could last an entire day or even an entire year. It was unclear what determined the duration of the event, but so far he hadn’t found a single recorded occurrence where the event was interrupted. In other words, body swaps didn’t happen once a week or every two days. It was an experience that required continuity, and therefore Keith assumed it wouldn’t happen again.

“I’m just sayin’. You’ve got an aunt in West Virginia, Mothman’s in West Virginia. If we tell your parents we gonna visit her, we could take a detour and stay in Point Pleasant for a while. Bet if we rope our brothers into it, they’ll let ya go.”

Pidge didn’t look up from her typing. “Wrong. My aunt lives in Virginia, not _West_ Virginia.”

“Same shit.” Keith shrugged around a mouthful of potato chips.

“No, it’s not.” Pidge snorted. “Shiro wouldn’t come with, anyway.”

“Shiro would do it for the vine.”

“Not if it meant being trapped in a car with the three of us again, he wouldn’t.”

Keith crossed his arms over his chest. No, he was _not_ pouting. He just wanted to check out the Mothman statue, okay? Maybe the bridge, too. Run some scans, camp out there for a couple days. Nothing major.

“Glad to see you got your accent back, you hillbilly.”

“What.”

“You know, your fake cowboy accent.” Pidge finally looked at him. “The one that makes you sound like you’re about to end every sentence with a ‘yeehaw’?”

Keith spluttered.

“First, I do not sound like that!” Yes, and his voice didn’t crack. “Second, say I do have some sorta accent – _nothing_ like a cowboy though. But what’d ya mean with gettin’ it back, when did I lose it?”

Pidge closed her laptop, eyeing him warily. “Wednesday, I think? You didn’t even ride your bike that day. I was tempted to call you out on being a cryptid.”

“I’m not a cryptid.” Keith replied drily. “But I still don’t buy your shit ‘bout me havin’ an accent.”

She stared at him blankly. Keith refused to yield.

All in all, there was no reason for him to believe that he would ever see Lance again.

 

Boy, was he wrong.

 

Keith woke up the following week to a multitude of stars. Granted, they were the plastic, glow in the dark kind. He recognized that ceiling.

He took a deep breath through his nose and quickly lifted the blanket covering him. Warm air hit his skin and goosebumps raised in his arms.

Keith glanced downstairs.

Yep, Lance still slept very much naked.

At least he knew what to expect now. Keith raised himself from the bed, avidly avoiding taking another peak, and rummaged through Lance’s drawers. He picked plain underwear and clothes at random, then covered himself with the towel hanging on the bedroom door.

The bathroom was conveniently empty, and Keith sighed as he closed the door. Okay, there was a chance his research hadn’t been thorough enough. You should never trust the internet, everyone on Yahoo! Answers was a fuckin’ liar.

He brushed his teeth with the blue toothbrush, the one he’d used last time and still hoped belonged to Lance, then cleaned off the mud-like substance on Lance’s face. Keith sniffed at his armpits. He didn’t smell rank, and it was nothing a good deodorant couldn’t solve.

He was still naked, though. Once again, Keith found himself standing in front of the mirror. No matter how many times he had told himself he wouldn’t, he’d known deep in his soul that he was born and raised to be a filthy animal.

“Lance, seriously—“

Face carefully blank, stark naked, and with both hands on his dick. That is how Amanda found her brother for the second time in a month.

“Tienes problemas.” Amanda whispered, leaving the room with a haunted look.

Early morning embarrassment aside, Keith had to admit that while he hadn’t learned any life-changing lessons last time he was here, he did gain some insight on _how_ to pretend he was Lance, if only long enough to throw off any suspicions from the family.

“Buenos días.” Keith almost shouted as he walked into the kitchen. The words rolled off his tongue easier than he thought they would.

Lance’s mother grinned at who she thought was her son and kissed his cheek. Keith felt himself stiffen and hoped the woman hadn’t noticed.

“Hello, tesoro. Sleep well?”

“Like a baby.” Keith grumbled as he sat down.

His new sister snorted. “You mean you woke up every two hours with shit and piss in your pants?”

“ _Amanda_.” Ms McClain scolded.

“Ya, perdón.” She rolled her eyes, uncapping the milk container and pouring the white dairy into her cereal bowl. Keith looked down at his own plate.

Oh, fuck. He’d forgotten about this.

Ms McClain passed him a box of Fruit Loops. “Lance, hurry up and eat. Isn’t Hunk picking you up today?”

“Is he?” Keith blurted out.

Ms McClain looked at him strangely.

“Oh, I mean. I don’t– I don’t know.”

He pointedly ignored her by pouring the cereal into his bowl.

“Hunk said he would meet us by the pier!” Emilio piped in. “He said that yesterday, Lance! You’re a cabeza de pollo.”

Keith didn’t even bother pretending he knew what that meant.

“Why don’t _I_ get a ride to school?” Amanda complained.

“Because ya don’t deserve one.” The words slipped easily from Keith’s tongue. Amanda reminded him a lot of Pidge, so it was just as easy to fall into easy banter with her. Actually, now that he thought about it, Amanda and Pidge were probably around the same age too.

Amanda blew him a raspberry.

Keith, maturely, stuck out his tongue.

“Stop bickering already and finish your food.” Ms McClain took the cereal box from Emilio’s hands when she noticed the Kilimanjaro on his tiny bowl. “I want to get the dishes done before Lily wakes up.”

Ah, back to his current predicament.

Keith stared at the milk carton warily. He couldn’t just eat the cereal dry here without acting suspicious, but he hadn’t even brought his pills with him. Fuck this, people would definitely notice if Lance suddenly started taking long trips to the bathroom every ten minutes—

Hold up.

Lance.

Lance wasn’t lactose intolerant.

_He was Lance right now._

As soon as that thought sinked in, Keith lunged for the milk and promptly drowned his cereal in a white sea.

Both of Lance’s siblings stared at him, horrified.

Keith almost moaned with his mouth full. He literally couldn’t give a shit. Suck his dick, lactase deficiency.

Before the three siblings were out the door, Ms McCall called out to her eldest son.

“Tesoro, don’t you have swimming practice today? Where’s your bag?”

Swimming practice.

Oh God, _swimming practic_ e.

Quick, Keith, make up something up.

“I was thinking ‘bout not going today. I’ve been feelin’ a little tired lately and should probably focus more on doin’ my homework.”

Good one, Keith. Shiro would approve of that excuse.

“Lance, your tournament’s just around the corner!” Wrong, he was _wrong_. He failed. Ms McClain did not approve of that excuse. “You already skipped practice last week, you can’t do that again if you want to make it to regionals this year.”

Fuckin’ great. Lance didn’t just swim after school. He was a goddamn competitive swimmer. Keith didn’t even have a kiddy pool back home.

Well, that explained the broad shoulders. And the back muscles. And the smooth, toned legs that went for days and the—

_Get your mind out of the gutter, Kogane._

Keith was still sulking by the time Hunk found them, Lance’s swimming equipment dragging along his feet and Emilio practically skipping on the boardwalk.

He didn’t know Hunk had a car. It was yellow and hideous, but he guessed the small Jeep had its charm. He hadn’t seen it the last time he switched with Lance. Oh, and Shay was there, too. Keith wondered if they were dating. They’d make a cute couple, both unnaturally kind and sweet. Could rule the world, if they set their minds to it.

They dropped Emilio off and drove on through short suburban streets. From what he had observed, there weren’t any known food chains around or big name stores to be found. Most of the shops in town were apparently owned by the local families. Calling this place a town was maybe too generous, Keith thought. It was more like a coastal village. Yeah, village sounded about right.

He still didn’t know Lance’s schedule, and he didn’t know where most classes were, but he figured following Hunk or Shay around wouldn't hurt. They were giving him worried looks again and talking in hushed whispers all the while, but Keith tried to keep to himself for the rest of the day. At least until he figured out a way to get back into his own body sooner. Keith was kind of proud of himself, though. He hadn’t screwed up so far.

“McClain! Are you even listening to what I’m saying?”

He spoke too soon.

Iverson’s shouts made his lips curl in a snarl. Only two classes with that guy and he already wished he could gut him with a hunting knife. A complete waste of space who seemed to get off on calling Lance out for every small thing he did.

Keith cleared his throat. “No, sir.”

“Oh? And why’s that, McClain?” Iverson taunted with that disgusting smirk on his face.

Keith resisted the urge to growl like a savage.

“‘Cause all ya fuckin’ do is talk shit. Sir.”

He swore Hunk almost fainted on the spot.

Somewhere in the distance, Lance screeched.

 

* * *

 

It’s not that Keith didn’t know how to swim. He could swim alright, he wasn’t going to drown any time soon, at least. But he didn’t know any strokes, and trying competitive swimming practice while being a complete rookie?

Brutal. His worst nightmare. Savage.

Their coach made them start with basic warm-ups. Running laps around the pool, stretching, a few dozen pushups, some sit-ups. It was nothing Keith hadn’t done before his own Judo lessons.

But then she blew the whistle and instead of running ten laps, they were supposed to _swim_ ten laps without stopping to catch their breath.

Keith made it last.

“McClain, get over here.”

Keith raised himself from the pool, feeling like he would slip against the wet tiles. He was met with the disappointed face of Coach Luxia.

“Lance, what’s up with you today?” She frowned in concern. “Your swimming has no form, and you’re slower than ever. Have you been eating properly?”

“I’m sorry, Coach.”

“You need to take care of yourself, Lance. I can’t have you throwing all your progress down the drain. We’re less than a week away from your competition.”

Keith bowed his head. He felt like he should’ve been better, even if he knew it wasn’t really his fault. He didn’t want to let Lance down, though. What if they switched before the competition and it was Keith the one who had to swim? Lance would lose, no questions asked. Keith couldn’t let that happen, though. The guy had done his homework for him. It wasn’t much, but Keith appreciated the effort. He knew Lance didn’t deserve to lose at something that important just because Keith couldn’t swim.

He skipped the showers that day.

Keith got home around twilight, feeling more drained than he ever in a long while. Emilio was playing in the yard with one of the neighbouring kids. Lance’s mother was sitting in the porch, a basket of yarn balls beside her. Keith realized he still didn’t know her name. It would be weird if her own son suddenly asked for it, so he figured he’d have to ask Lance later. She smiled when he walked up to her.

She threw one of the balls at him. “Want to keep me company?”

Now Keith didn’t know the first thing about knitting, much less whatever Ms McClain was magically bringing to life. He held the wool in his hands, trying to hold the needles correctly and pulling thread over thread, but the piece just wouldn’t seem to come together.

Ms McClain watched in amusement as he fumbled once more. She gently placed her hand over his and took the needles from him.

“Something’s on your mind.” Keith looked at her with wide eyes. “You’re stressed, that’s why you can’t get it right.”

That wasn’t really it, but Keith found himself nodding along.

“I got a call from the principal.”

Fuck, fuck, _fuck._

“Oye, look at me.” Lance’s mother raised his chin with a single finger. Keith hadn’t noticed he’d dropped his head. “Iverson’s been on your case since last year. He is a terrible man and a bully, but you can’t give into what he wants. He’s not worth tainting your discipline record for.”

“I couldn’t help it.” Keith rushed to say. “I couldn’t keep listening to him talk like La—, like I was stupid.”

“Tesoro, if I had been there, believe me, I would’ve punched the man. I can’t blame you for what you did, but I do need you to be more careful. You won’t let Iverson ruin your chances at that merit scholarship, will you?”

Keith pursed his lips. Was Lance on a merit scholarship? No, that’d be stupid. Lance went to a public school. The scholarship had to be for college. But it couldn’t be any community college near him if he was aiming for a _merit scholarship_. This could only mean that Lance was applying to a bigger university, possibly in another state or maybe, if Keith was lucky, in one of California’s largest cities, like San Fran.

What the fuck.

Keith had to resit the urge to punch himself in the face. Why the fuck would he be lucky if Lance went to some big name college in San Francisco? Why should he care where Lance did after this? God, it had been such a long day. He needed to get his shit together. He didn’t even know Lance for real.

Still Keith found himself promising Lance’s mother he wouldn’t get in trouble again.

Dinner at the McClains was a loud affair, with Emilio excitedly narrating his day at school, Amanda constantly picking on Lance and vice versa, and Baby Lily smearing her food all over her cheeks and chair. Keith wondered, not for the first time, if Lance didn’t have a father. He hadn’t seen him the first day, and no one had mentioned him today either.

Maybe their dad had left.

Keith knew all too well how that felt.

Before closing his eyes for the night, he made the split-second decision to pull out Lance’s phone and unlocked it with his thumb.

He wrote.

 

 

* * *

 

  
**[ NEW ! ]**

  
_lance,_

_i don’t know if this will happen again but i’m guessing it might. i really don’t know what we should do bout this and was hoping you’d have some idea. being you isn’t easy, y’know? i’m regretting not taking spanish classes last year._

_regarding your message last time: don't flirt with allura wth she’s my boss. also i heard about how much of a disaster you were at altea’s last time. was waiting tables too much for a small town boy like you?_

_also, sorry to say this but you’ve got detention tomorrow afternoon. i have no regrets because iverson is a fucking asshole but sorry in advance anyway._

_ps. leave my hair out of this_

_pps. what’s your mother’s name?_

 

 

* * *

 

  
Lance glared at his phone.

After how much he’d tried to better his performance at Altea’s Bar & Grill yesterday, this is how Keith repays him? By getting into fucking detention?

Keith was a total sweetheart, wasn’t he.

And, just like Lance had dreaded, he hadn’t even gone through Lance’s skin care routine! Granted, Keith probably didn’t know the first thing about cleansing – the amount of blackheads Lance had found yesterday was frankly alarming – but the bottles had labels! It wasn’t that hard to figure out how to use soap at least.

Lance scratched his scalp. The guy hadn’t even bothered to shower.

All these small details, as well as the hideous mullet that would not be forgotten, led Lance to believe that Keith, for all his weirdly endearing alien obsession and impressive physique, was nothing but a fucking asshole.

And that challenge about waiting tables being too much for him? Asshole. The truest form of all assholes.

The door flew open to show Amanda in her sleepwear, one hand covering her eyes, the other still holding onto the handle.

Lance raised an eyebrow. “Just what do you think you’re doing?”

Amanda peaked through her fingers, then relaxed when she saw her brother, fully clothed and standing before the sink.

The McClain Eyebrow Raise intensified.

“What?” Amanda scoffed. “I didn’t want to see you touching your dick again.”

Lance visibly paled. “¿Qué mierda hablas?”

Amanda looked at him funny. “Oh, come on. It’s happened twice already. I barge in and find you butt naked with both hands on your junk. It’s getting old, hermano.”

Lance stared at himself through the mirror, feeling horrified and somewhat violated.

Two could play this game.

The next time Lance was in Keith’s body, just before going to sleep, Lance marched into the bathroom with a newfound sense of purpose.

He locked the door and unceremoniously dropped his pants.

Keith had a nice cock. It wasn’t as long as his, but it was thicker. Lance turned around and gave himself a moment to admire Keith’s butt.

Damn, baby.

But no, he would not get distracted by a nice backside. Lance was a man on a mission.

He uncapped the black sharpie and wrote (with great effort, mind you) in capital letters across that round ass:

  
**COMEPINGA**

  
Then, he turned to face the mirror again and decided to draw a dick on Keith’s forehead. You know, for good measure. Nothing better than waking up to a hairy dick, right?

Satisfied with his work, he ignored Shiro’s petrified look as he exited the bathroom and went to sleep.

 

 

* * *

 

  
**[ NEW ! ]**

  
_dear imbécil,_

_if i had any idea how to stop this i wouldve done it already, trust me. im not that fond of being u either. i think shiro also suspects somethings goin on coz he looks me all weird when i call him shiro?? should i like not do that?? hes ur brother right?_

_is that a challenge pretty boy?? just u wait jerkface ill be the best fuckin employee of the month in no time. and who cares if alluras ur boss? u want that then go for it!! ive been trying some pick up lines with her (and only my best ones bc a woman like her deserves the best obvi) but she just looked disturbed and amused. maybe try a different approach u kno_

_also i touched pidges laptop and she tazed me??? wtf is up w that. also if u could stop touchin my dick in front of my little sister (OR JUST TOUCHIN IT PERIOD) thatd be gr8 thnks_

_hope u liked my little present btw ;)_

_yeehaw motherfucker_

_sincerely,_  
_lance xoxo_

_ps. no_

_pps. her name’s carmen._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _tienes problemas - you’ve got issues_   
>  _cabeza de pollo - literal translation is chicken head, but in this case it means someone who forgets things easily (i'm not sure if this is something used in cuba, but sue me i needed to use it somewhere)_   
>  _¿qué mierda hablas? - the fuck are you talking about?_   
>  _comepinga - cocksucker_
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> first, thank you all for your good wishes! i’m not sick anymore but i’m also not sure when the next chapter will be up, since i’m graduating this weekend and going on our last class trip next week (cancún!!!). i love all of your comments tho so keep them coming and if there’s anything here that i should change just let me know. i really appreciate like, all of the ten people that are probably reading this
> 
> edit: the art on this chapter of [keith admiring lance's work](http://littlelyn100.tumblr.com/post/162092299718/so-i-binge-read-a-fanfiction-by-angejolras-called) was made by the lovely @[littlelyn100](http://www.littlelyn100.tumblr.com), go check out their blog! i wasn't sure if i should add it here because it was more keith's reaction than lance actually doing it, but fuck it, it's too good to not show it. i love it.
> 
> yeehaw motherfuckers


	4. the one where lance is shook

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the middle of war, Lance has an epiphany and Keith comes to terms with his new status as a cryptid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who's back from cancún!! i'm sorry i took so long to post this, i'm still sick and slightly hungover i guess. god, that trip was amazing, i want to go back so bad. anyway, this chapter is terribly self-indulgent and i regret nothing.
> 
> enjoy!

Keith took a deep breath.

“I’m a cryptid.”

Pidge paused. She shut the lid on her laptop slowly and looked at him blankly. Her eyes roamed around his face. Today, Keith had the word **PUTA** marred across his left cheek. It looked faded, as if he’d scrubbed his face too hard and hadn’t managed more than smearing the ink further.

For the past three weeks and counting, Keith had been showing up to school with various markings on his face. Some days he’d have an insult across his forehead, raging from angry Spanish words to creative combinations in English. Sometimes he’d have a crude dick drawn _somewhere_ ; neck, forehead, cheeks and even his nose. That one was Pidge’s personal favorite – Keith’s nose had been replaced with a penis for two days straight.

It was a mystery who had crafted such works of art or why they had done it. Keith refused to talk about it, and whoever was stupid enough to ask would combust under Keith’s glare. No one dared talk about the penis-shaped elephant in the room.

As of this week, however, he’d also started sporting scribbled sentences on his forearms and wrists. He’d cover them with his jacket and even started wearing _fingerless gloves_ – in the middle of spring.

Pidge thought she’d caught a smiley face once, but Keith had moved too quickly for her to check twice.

“You’re a cryptid.”

“I’m a cryptid.”

Pidge raised an eyebrow. Perhaps it was time to call Matt—

“I don’t have enough proof right now.” Keith rushed to say. “But once I find it, I’ll show ya. This goes further then we ever thought we could go, Pidge. It’s a massive breakthrough.”

“So I was right.”

“You were right.”

Keith was capable of making a color charted board on his newfound cryptic status. Pidge knew this for sure. She also knew that, despite how crazy it sounded, _something_ had happened to Keith the month before. Ever since, he’d gotten strong mood swings, forgotten his accent, spoken loudly while flailing his arms, neglected his bike, _talked in memes_ , and maybe the most concerning of all — he’d bought himself new clothes.

Pidge knew Keith’s closet like the back of her hand, mostly because his style was so limited and pitiful. When Keith showed up to school wearing a pink shirt with an alien cartoon print, she’d been certain there was something fishy going on.

Keith being the new cryptid in town was probably the most logical conclusion.

 

 

* * *

 

  
Two days after Lance’s declaration of war, he woke up to Keith’s banshee alarm.

Lance, despite not being awake yet, automatically reached for the phone he knew laid on the nightstand. He snoozed the sound and was about ready to go back to sleep when a notification caught his eye.

There was a new note, flashing bright red for him to see. Huh. It couldn’t be his own note, right? Keith ought to have read it before.

He clicked it open and bolted.

 

 

**[ NEW ! ]**

  
_lance,_

_you’re an asshole. fucking sharpie, really? i had to use a beanie all day and people were giving me weird looks. i had to wear it at work because i can’t just serve people with a dick on my face damn it._

_now that that’s out of the way, i guess i should give you some advice on handling shiro. yes, he’s my brother. i never call him shiro at home, that’s just his nickname. just call him takashi. he’s also got super dark humour so if you ever hear him saying something about how he longs for death, ignore him and move on._

_stop trying to get into allura’s pants. you don’t stand a chance._

_never touch pidge’s equipment unless she gives you permission. about your sister…in my defence, i didn’t do it on purpose. she walked in on me and i panicked. i have no interest in touching your junk but you insist on sleeping naked and i had to cover it somehow ok?_

_also i think i skinned my butt trying to erase those words. keep pulling shit like this and i’ll shove that yeehaw up your ass_

_ps. it’s your turn to make breakfast, cowboy_

 

 

Lance cracked some eggs on the pan and waited for them to cook into that perfect sunny-side up. He poured himself a glass of chocolate milk, because he wasn’t a savage, and rummaged through the fridge for anything resembling bacon.

“Mornin’, lil bro. How’s it hangin’?”

Lance paused. He twirled, judging Shiro not-so-silently.

“How’s it hanging. Really, Takashi?”

Keith’s brother ran a hand through his two-toned hair and plopped himself on his seat. “Gimme a break, I haven’t slept in thirty-two hours. Or was it thirty-six? Time’s a social construct.”

Shiro was an overworked, exhausted police officer. He must been working on a big case right now. Lance took pity on him and handed him the first batch of eggs.

To an outsider, Shiro probably looked like a poised man with impressive muscles and a bionic arm who had his life put together. But Lance, in this travesty, had discovered the harsh truth.

Shiro ate like a pig.

Forget forks, spoons, or sporks (the greatest creation of all humankind, as Hunk put it). Forget napkins and glasses. Forget biting, tasting, swallowing. Shiro attacked food with his bare hands and inhaled everything on his plate.

Lance was horrified.

Assuming this was something Keith put up with every day, Lance began cutting his own eggs. He sipped at his milk and relished in the taste of chocolate on his tongue when he saw Shiro pausing, mouth agape with food covering his teeth and right arm raised with a new bite.

“Is that milk.”

Lance frowned. “Yes?”

“God, Keith. Did something happen? I mean, it’s definitely too early for your day to be ruined but again, time’s a social construct.”

“What.”

“Was it nightmares? You know it’s perfectly normal to have them. You don’t have to self-destruct before seven a.m, though.”

Lance continued to look baffled.

“But if you wanted to die, you should’ve told me first. Assisted suicide’s pretty common these days and we could’ve offed each other. You know I’d never pass up a chance to die.”

Jesus, Keith said to ignore Shiro’s sense of humor, but _man,_ was it dark.

“Did you take your pills before drinking that?” Shiro reached towards the small bowl containing spices and medicine. He checked an orange container and sighed. “I feared this would be the case.”

Lance spied the masking tape on the front.

**KEITH’S DAIRY JOY**

Hijo de puta.

As if summoned, Keith’s stomach let out a loud rumble and Lance ran into the bathroom.

 

 

* * *

 

 

**[ NEW ! ]**

  
_dear mullet,_

_u couldnt warn me that u were cows enemy numero uno?? any other deathly allergies i should b aware of??_

_since i am a rational human being and the king of self-care, imma give u some warnings about that perfect body o’mine. i have adhd so no worries if u space out sometimes, forget what u were saying or if u literally feel like u cant sit still. its completely normal. u should take the pills every morning tho. they r on the bathroom cabinet and have my name on the cap._

_ALSO PLS SHOWER. ill let the thing w my sis go but u HAVE to shower and follow my skin regime ok. next time ill leave u the instructions on a paper._

_fyi im totally getting better at being a waiter, allura evn complemented me! think im growin on her. i actually got u a huge tip last night i spent a third of that on a mcdonalds milkshake. aint got one at home, sue me!!_

_also judo? listen up samurai i can throw a punch but i cant fuckin flip kick people. im the embodiment of peace chico. pls tell me u dont got an important judo duel soon, its enough that im worried about my swimming relay already._

_moo bitch,_  
_lance xoxo_

 

 

* * *

 

The day Hunk’s car broke down, Keith finally met Lance’s dad.

‘Met’ was a strong word. More like, Keith got called out in public by Lance’s dad.

Yellow’s engine had started acting up the evening before, and Hunk hadn’t been able to start him that morning. As a result, Keith found himself walking with Hunk along the boardwalk after dutifully dropping off Emilio. Shay didn’t tag along, since her brother Rax actually had a functioning car. For some reason Keith was still struggling to understand, Rax wasn’t a fan of Hunk’s.

Lance’s high school – the only one in his hometown – was a short trek from the pier, past the roads of fishing boats docked in the sand, around Nuna Castillo’s Beauty & Hair Salon, after Milo’s Dinner and next to the local pharmacy.

Keith had fallen in love with this town. He’d always loved the outdoors, loved the taste of clean air and how nature seemed to go on forever around him. After visiting this place more than a couple of times, Keith had been charmed by the endless blue sea crashing against the sand and grass, and by the expanse of woods going uphill and surrounding this town, sheltering it from the rest of the world.

He also enjoyed Hunk’s company quite a lot.

“Sorry, should I go over it slower?”

Keith shook his head. Fuck, when did Hunk start talking? He must’ve spaced out for a while. They were only two blocks away from their school now.

“Yeah… Sorry, I just—“

“No, no, no. It’s fine, bro, you know that.”

When Keith first met him, he’d thought he was just a shy guy who probably got a void score on the Rice Purity Test. Hunk was, essentially, still that, but Keith had discovered that Hunk was also the nosiest person alive.

“There’s something you’re not telling me.” Hunk whispered, eyes narrowed and face inches away from Keith’s.

Keith laughed nervously. It sounded like something Lance would do. “What’re ya talking ‘bout, buddy?”

“Oh, don’t give me that bullshit, Lance. I know you. I know your game, and you’re hiding something _from me_.” Hunk looked like an offended puppy. “It’s fine if you don’t wanna share, bro, but I might need to read your diary now.”

“Excuse me?!” Keith sputtered.

“Lance, you knew what you signed up for when you became my best friend. It was in the contract, bro, I told you. I _literally_ told you.”

Keith’s mind was a sea of wondering what was inside Lance’s diary and how often Hunk broke into Lance’s house to read it.

“Sometimes it’s like you’re a completely different person. An impostor, Lance! But you told me that wasn't it, and I trust you, I do. Did Nyma reject you again? Is that what this is about because—“

“Lance!”

Hunk froze at the sound and Keith gave a sharp turn. Behind them stood a parked van, covered in blue stickers and banners reading ‘McClain’ in white lettering. Some people wearing pins were setting up some sort of stage right next to the vehicle, and a woman unloading equipment from the back of the van. However, none of them had called out to Lance. Keith checked the man in glasses leaning by the door.

He motioned for Keith to step closer.

Keith chanced a look at Hunk and found him still frozen, but seemingly forcing a smile. Weird. He approached the van, warily eyeing the man who looked like an older, not nearly as tall version of Lance. He had wrinkles around his eyes, laughter lines marking his lips and the shadow of a moustache growing on. His hair was white at the roots, and his skin was a darker shade than Lance’s. The man’s eyes were brown, not blue.

“How is your mother doing?” The man asked, clapping a hand on Keith’s shoulder.

Keith frowned down at him. “She’s good. Why’d ya ask?”

“Lance, no empieces. I know I haven’t been around lately, but it’s campaign season. Going home just hasn’t been an option so far, you know.” Lance’s father rubbed his face. “I will be swinging by tonight, so please tell your mother that.”

Keith nodded dumbly.

“Good. Now off you go, don’t let me keep you and Hunk for too long.” The pressure on Keith’s shoulder tightened. “Y párate recto, chico. How people see you reflects on how they see me, ¿tú me entiendes?”

Keith nodded again, quicker and tense. He could feel Lance’s body locking up on itself, pressure on his shoulder.

“Sí, papá.”

Yes, he could do basic Spanish. Jokes on you, Pidge. Keith wasn’t that much of a western ignorant.

Lance’s father let him go. Keith walked fast back to where Hunk was standing, very obviously eavesdropping but pretending he wasn’t. Keith had felt extremely uncomfortable around Lance’s father. He’d thought all of Lance’s relatives would be as open and welcoming as the next one, but Lance’s dad felt cold. Keith didn’t peg him as a bad person, but he had this pounding feeling in his chest that nothing would please that man. Nothing was ever enough to him.

“Bro, it’s okay.” Hunk wrapped a warm arm around Lance’s shoulder, making Keith drop his head an inch. “Your dad’s just busy. He’ll come around, you know that. He always does.”

During lunch, Hunk offered Keith one of the cupcakes he’d baked for Shay (“Not my girlfriend, Lance. Just a girl I admire very much, let it go, bro.”). After some prodding and joking, Hunk managed to get Keith to laugh again, and soon enough thoughts about that morning were forgotten.

Keith could see why Lance would have someone like Hunk as his best friend.

 

* * *

 

 

**[ N E W ! ]**

  
_lance,_

_if you draw a penis on my fucking nose again, i will break your toes one at a time and make sure that whenever it’s been reset it breaks again._

_also why is iverson such a bitch? he’s out to get you, i don’t know what you did to him but he suffers like, every time you take a breath. i want to sock him in the eye but i can’t get you detention again, so i’ll put up with his shit for now but don’t blame me if i snap one day ok?_

_good news: i won a practice race today at your swim thing. i’m not good enough to compete and i’m so glad it’s gonna be you who does it, but i’m learning. backstroke’s pretty easy imo. but you know what’s not easy at all? knitting. what the fuck lance how does carmen do all that shit, it’s insane. i mean i finally managed to pull two threads together but patterns? color schemes? bracelets?_

_your mother is an inspiration. i really mean it._

_good luck tomorrow, cowboy. crush them other swimmers with your noodle legs._

_ps. emilio snuck into my bed (your bed?) an hour ago. said he had a nightmare. does this happen often?_

 

 

* * *

 

 Working at Altea had its perks. For one, there was always the opportunity to make money on the side, and not necessarily from tips.

“I’ll throw in fifteen.”

“Add me another ten. That girl’s getting stood up tonight.”

“You sure you wanna go that far, Ulaz?”

“I go as far as I know I can reach, kid. Ulaz is getting some greens tonight.”

From the back of the kitchen, Thace sighed. “Please stop referring to yourself in third person.”

Lance wasn’t a gambler by choice. Altea’s environment had forced him to adapt and, dare he say it, he’d done a pretty neat job at that. His own mother and Keith himself probably wouldn’t condone this lifestyle, but Lance had earned quite a lot in the past few weeks.

From what Lance had seen, Keith and Shiro didn’t have a lot of money to spare. Between Shiro’s work at the precinct, his quickly decreasing veteran’s pension, and Keith’s part-time job, the brothers barely managed to pay for their food, transportation, living expenses and cover rent. All that’s left went to Shiro’s medical bills and Keith’s college fund, which didn’t have much to begin with.

The girl did not get stood up that night, contrary to Ulaz’s belief, and Lance cheerily moped the floors with forty-seven bucks in his pocket.

Whenever Keith asked, Lance would say he’d just gotten some good tips. Keith bought it every time.

Lance set the mop down and wiped off the sweat from his forehead. Altea was a huge place to clean, what with its two floors and a balcony for smokers. Most of the staff had already gone home, and he should be ringing up Shiro in a few minutes. Lance still wouldn’t ride Keith’s bike because he valued his own life, thank you very much. Shiro would come take him home and then he could draw a dick on Keith’s face in peace while binge-watching whatever was on TV with Keith’s brother.

All he had to do was say goodbye to Allura first.

Allura Falra was a character.

After first meeting her, Lance had to admit he’d fallen a little bit in love with her. But who could blame him? Allura was gorgeous on a supermodel level, and her kindness, grace and poise really could make anyone drool. Lance had tried his best pick-up lines on her, attempted to charm her through the McClain Smirk™ – which, in retrospect, might not have worked on Keith’s face – and tried to impress her with his magic sewing skills. But that woman was an unbreakable fortress.

“Allura?” Lance knocked on the door lightly. “I’m heading home now, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow.”

When Lance got no answer, he decided to take peak into her office.

“Allura–“

As soon as he stepped inside, Lance was met with the rapid bass and loud chime from Allura’s headphones, blasting a rhythm Lance recognised a little too well. She didn’t notice him, transfixed in the music echoing in her ears and the numbers scribbled on her notebook. Her finger moved lightning fast over the calculator.

Lance tapped her on the shoulder.

Allura jumped, clapping a hand to her mouth and cutting off the music. She blinked at Lance for a whole minute before relaxing.

“Oh, it’s just you, Keith.”

Lance suppressed a chuckled and pointed at the earbuds now hanging around her neck. “Is that CNCO?”

Allura blinked at him again. “You know them?”

“Yeah, totally. My brother and I used to watch that show they were on, you know.” He propped himself up on the corner of her desk. “They’re pretty good, in my opinion.”

“First, get off. Second,” she paused to let out a very ungraceful snort. “Shiro likes contest shows?”

Oh.

Lance had been talking about his older brother, Dante, but whatever works.

“He loves them.” Lance gushed. “He cried during The Bachelor once.”

And _that_ was a true story. Pidge had mentioned it in passing, and when Keith had been questioned about it, he had no qualms about throwing dirt all over his brother.

“No way.” Allura laughed. “I never pegged him for that sort of person.”

“You don’t know the half of it.” Lance muttered under his breath. “Anyway, I didn’t know you spoke Spanish.”

“Oh, I don’t. I just like the music, is all.”

“Shit, sorry. Shouldn’t assume things–“

Allura waved him off. “Keith, it’s fine. Don’t get your knickers in a twist. I may not really know Spanish, but I do understand it pretty well. It’s very similar to Portuguese.”

Lance almost choked on his spit. “You speak _Portuguese_?”

Allura raised herself from her chair and gathered her belongings. Swinging her purse over her shoulder, she threw Lance a smile.

“You up for some story time, Keith? I can drive you home, if you’d like.”

And how could Lance reject such a kind offer? Shiro would understand, he is a gentle soul. One cannot simply say no to a woman like Allura.

“My mother was a flight-attendant from Jamaica.” Allure narrated as she moved through the dark streets of San Francisco, illuminated by lampposts and signs over stores. “She made a couple of trips overseas, but mostly flew around the continent. She met my father during a lay-over in Brazil, and they hit off pretty quickly. He was a politician at the time, but he dreamt of opening a restaurant some day and she loved tasting his food. Call it a fling or a short-lived romance, I still don’t know what it was.”

Allura sped up through the empty backstreets, familiar with the city in a way Lance probably would never be. “I don’t think they planned on seeing each other again. But fate had other plans, I suppose, because a few years later my mum switched companies and based herself in London, where she bumped into my father again. Turns out Father had been visiting his family when he met her, but had lived in London for most of his life— wait, I forgot where to go from here. Should I take this turn or the next one?”

Lance cleared his throat. “Oh, um. Yeah, take the next left. It’s like, three blocks down from there.”

Before he knew it, Allura was stopping before Keith’s building.

“Thanks for listening, Keith.” She told him before he left. “It was really nice chatting with you.”

“Yeah, of course.” Lance shot her a grin and his classic finger guns. “See you tomorrow, ‘Lura.”

As she sped away, Lance couldn’t help but feel that maybe his initial feelings for Allura had morphed into something else. And it wasn’t a new development, no. He’d been shaking himself off from his fantasies and love-at-first-sight delusions. Allura, now that he thought about it, didn’t feel like the girl he wanted to write songs about, but rather the girl he wanted to talks boys with in the middle of the night and who’d just have his back when push came to shove. Someone who’d drive him places, welcome him in her room whenever there was a shouting match downstairs, give him sound advice and call him out on his bullshit.

Suddenly, Allura reminded him too much of Deborah.

 

* * *

 

  
**[ N E W ! ]**

  
_dear bitch,_

_i got lost today. crazy, i kno, but sf is so mcfreakin huge dudeee. i had to ring up shiro after takin several wrong trolleybuses n using the motherfckin cable car man. but!!!! a good thing happened: i found castro street!! i watched that movie bout harvey milk (u know da 1 w sean penne) and idk how i got there but it looked like an ordinary street?? i saw some tourisrts n stuff but maaan i guess i was expectin some huge ass shrine for the man u kno_

_i hoep u went to practice yesterday!! yes i won that race last month but the next relays comin up in like 2 months!! u need to practice samurai, just like im practicing kickin and screamin at punchin bags. ever thought of trying fencing or some shit lik that?? i think ud be really good w a sword u kno_

_also hear me out asshole: DO NOT WRITE VAJAYJAY ON MY CHIN EVER AGAIN. mamá saw that keef. not cool man not cool. she almost scrubbed it off herself w detergent._

_oh n i talked to one of ur teachers. coran the gorgeous man!!!!! hes so awesome dude wtf i could actually hear him for hours hes so passionate bout history its insane. feels like hes lived for millennia. u sure hes not one of ur cryptids???_

_cheerio cockslut,_  
_lance xoxo_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _puta – whore_   
>  _hijo de puta – son of a bitch_   
>  _no empieces – don't start_   
>  _y párate recto, chico – and stand up straight, boy_   
>  _¿tú me entiendes? - do you understand me?_
> 
>  
> 
> this monstrosity of a chapter was actually longer but i had to stop because of my own sanity. things will get a little more plot heavy from now on, so hang in tight until the next chap! i'm busy with entrance exams for german colleges and going abroad on april, but i'll try to post a new chapter soon, i promise. thank you again for reading everyone! comment below or find me on tumblr!


	5. the one where shiro is a bother figure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith and Lance find a new form of communication and end up maybe a little obsessed with each other's voices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> since i'm leaving for a month-long trip tonight and probably won't update until i'm back, here's a nearly 6k chapter to make up for it! this fic has turned out 100% self-indulgence and i'm not ready to reach the real plot yet, but will be adding some important plot points along the way.
> 
> also, it's a day late but happy trans day of visibility! this chapter includes talks about transitioning process and hormone treatments, which i've researched about but, since i am not trans, cannot account for on a personal level. what pidge experiences here is something i've seen people on tumblr experience, and i hope i haven't offended anyone with what i wrote. if there is anything that makes you uncomfortable, as always, you can tell me.
> 
> enjoy!

Miles beyond hot sand and grass patches stood a massive rock formation, with tunnel-shaped entrances and stepping stones that served as a ladder of sorts, leading into darkness and water beneath the soles of his flip flops.

Keith briefly wondered if he was being led to his own death.

“Mami, are we there yet?” Emilio voiced out the thoughts of both of his siblings.

“Just a little further, mi amor.” Carmen walked ahead, flashlight bringing their wet path alive and twinkling as the water splashed on the rock walls. “We can eat the pastelitos when we get there, okay. How does that sound?”

Amanda didn’t look very excited at the prospect of going on, but Emilio whooped and picked up the pace. At the mention of his new favourite pastry, Keith was tempted to do the same.

He’d woken up that morning to a fake starry sky and pots banging at the crack of dawn. Before he knew it, Keith was forced into a pair of booty shorts, a tank top and flip flops – _clean clothes, tesoro_ , Carmen had said. He’d barely had time to check out Lance’s legs in the mirror before Amanda went and threw him out of the bathroom, complaining loudly about bikini straps.

Today, the McClain household was a complete chaos. Carmen juggled Baby Lily on her arms while packing three identical duffel bags with food containers and water bottles. In the meantime, Emilio took to running naked around the living room with his swimming trunks hanging on his head. Lance’s father was nowhere to be seen.

Carmen kept rambling about how there was never enough time when you needed it and “Lance, muévete! We don’t have all day, chico!”

Hunk’s mothers were, apparently, the go-to babysitters for whenever Carmen needed to take her children on impromptu trips to the beach, _without the baby_. After dropping Lily at the Garrett’s, the family of four had climbed down the boardwalk and continued their trek through the sand road.

Now, amidst moss on rock walls and algae around his feet, Keith still did not know where the fuck they were headed.

Keith dug out Lance’s phone from his front pocket. He was going in blind, he needed some insight on what this place was, or what they would do once they got there – besides eating, apparently.

He punched in his own phone number and sent a quick text.

  
**[ y o u ]**

_hey lance it’s keith. your mom’s taking me and your siblings to some weird ass cave by the beach. help?_

  
Keith waited for it to be delivered, but a notification popped instead.

  
**MESSAGE SEND FAILURE**

 

He checked the phone’s signal. Two bars. It should’ve been enough, even inside the cave. He tried to resend it.

  
**MESSAGE SEND FAILURE. NOT DELIVERED.**

  
Keith cursed and shoved the device back in his shorts.

“Who are you texting?” Amanda piped in from behind.

“None of ya business, toad.”

She pressed. “Is it that Keith guy?”

Keith stopped dead in his tracks, causing Amanda to collide with his back. What the fuck what the fuck _what the fuck_ –

“Who?” He answered instead.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Lance.” Amanda brushed past him. “My room’s right next door, remember? I can hear you complaining all night long about that guy and his ‘stupid pretty eyes’ or something.”

Stupid pretty eyes.

Lance thought his eyes were pretty.

Lance wasn’t straight. Or maybe he was?

But he found Keith’s eyes _pretty_.

“ _Oye_.” Keith blinked and found Amanda’s fingers snapping in front of his face. Her tone suggested she’d been at it for a while. “I’m still talking to you, imbécil.”

He shoved her hand away. “Sorry, spaced out.”

“Whatever. Did your boyfriend leave you hanging or something?”  
Wait, what.

Keith choked. “Who?”

“ _Keith_.”

“We’re not together, Amanda, what the fuck.” Keith picked up his pace, passing Emilio and practically stepping on Carmen’s heels. “This ain’t your business, alright.”

“So you’re not blushing?” The devil called out.

“No!”

Keith’s voice didn’t crack, what are you talking about.

Light suddenly streamed into the tunnel, which meant they were actually close this time. The vegetation became thicker around his ankles and branches grew in the direction of the opening, framing its mouth with fresh leaves.

Carmen was the first to step outside. She took a small jump and offered Keith a hand. “Watch out for the last step, kids. You’re gonna have to jump a little to get here.” She pulled Keith through and he landed swiftly on Lance’s twigs for legs. He finally took a look around.

It was breathtaking.

If the massive clearing above them was anything to go by, Keith could assume that they were currently underground. The tunnel had opened and the rock walls surrounding them were covered in wet leaves and even a couple of flowers. Algae hanged from the clearing, somehow, and the floor was dusted with sand. There was a small lake in the middle of it all, with clear water rocking gently from side to side.

Keith hadn’t thought something so beautiful could exist.

“Emilio, don’t run too close to the edge!” Carmen called. “Lance, can you go grab him before he falls?”

If there was an art Keith had mastered during his time in Lance’s body, it was the art of capturing a child by the armpits.

Carmen’s guayaba pastelitos were, like always, excellent. Keith had googled the fruit after trying them for the first time and almost dragged Shiro on a mad search for ‘guava jelly’, which was the closest thing to the current heaven inside his mouth. He was munching on his third piece when Carmen spoke up.

“Emilio, since this is your first time down here, there’s a story you must know before we continue. Lance, tesoro, would you like to do the honours?”

Keith tensed.

_Story what story he doesn’t know any stories—_

“Um, actually…” Keith scratched the back of his neck. “You’re a much better storyteller.”

Carmen frowned. “That’s not true—“

“I’ll do it!” Amanda cheerfully volunteered. “It’s my turn, and I know it just as well. Dante told Lance, Lance told me, I’ll tell Emilio, and Emi can tell Lily when she’s old enough.”

“That does sound like a good idea, corazón.” Carmen bopped her daughter’s nose gently. Amanda swallowed the last of her pastelitos and cleared her throat. She began narrating.

“In Ancient Greece, it was once believed that our lives were threads. The Moirai, also known as the Fates, controlled and watched over the course of those strings according to our destiny. Every person in the world has its own thread, and they mingle and weave together whenever someone becomes a part of our story. Our family — the Villamar side, that is — has believed in these tales for the longest time. Knitting is an art that has been passed down from generation to generation, and it’s time for you to understand why it is so important to us.”

Keith listened intently, completely enraptured by the story. He’d heard stuff like this before. The Fates, he’d seen them in Disney’s inaccurate take on Hercules, of course. Life is a thread? Probably read it on a fortune cookie, too. Keith vaguely remembered hearing Shiro’s mother talk about a red thread of marriage, something invisible that connected people to the Japanese equivalent of the soulmate trope.

Keith hadn’t heard about Lance’s family history before.

“We’re children of the sea.” Amanda bopped Emilio’s nose, making him giggle. “We’ve lived by the coast, surrounded by water since before the Spaniards came to invade our islands. The ocean keeps us safe, watches over us, takes care of our people. In exchange for its protection, we knit. Every year before the summer arrives, we leave an offering by a secluded, clean area of the beach. Our offering is the story of our family, told in patterns and colors and threads of different textures all put together in a quilt.”

Carmen carefully unfolded said quilt from her duffel bag. She handed it over to Keith, who cradled the piece in his arms reverently, smaller than a cushion but far prettier. He wondered bitterly if he’d ever get a place on the patchwork. Probably not.

“Did you bring the piece I told you to?” Lance’s mother asked Emilio.

“Yes!”

“See the different colors in this thing?” Amanda took the quilt from Keith’s hands, showing Emilio the multitude of patches. “Each one belongs to someone in our family. We all have our own special pattern. That green one’s mine, and the long blue one in the middle is Lance’s, since he’s the cursed middle child.”

Keith let out an indignant sound on Lance’s behalf.

He roamed his eyes over the quilt. Amanda’s section consisted of a simple criss-cross pattern in light and dark greens, and Keith noticed the threads weren’t pulled as tight as they should be. The work next to hers stood out for its bright contrast between black and white, but there was a dominance of black in it, almost as if the white pattern didn’t have a chance to grow from the dark threads.

Rich browns and ochre made up the largest pattern, which Keith assumed belonged to Carmen. A thick stripe of wool framed the top border of the quilt, with threads pulled together like vines and astounding knitted leaves pouring from it and merging with her children’s own work. Carmen’s skill was really something else.

Placed right in the middle of the quilt stood Lance’s work, like it was his job to be in the spotlight and stitch his family together. Now Keith knew that Carmen’s skills were superior to her son’s, but staring at the piece before him, he just couldn’t help but think that Lance’s pattern was the best one of them all. Everything about the threads screamed _Lance_. Strong blues and bright turquoises weaved together in the most realistic representation of mermaid scales Keith had ever seen in his life. Not even the best animation software could replicate this shit. Keith wasn’t sure what he’d feel if he were to touch them.

He chanced a look at Lance’s soft, long fingers. The kind that people called ‘pianist fingers’. Nails cleanly cut, without callouses or broken skin around the knuckles. These were _talented_ fingers. They could probably do all sorts of things—

_Check yourself, Kogane._

Pidge would call him a thirsty hoe, Keith thought as he noticed that while he’d been too busy waxing poetic about mermaids and Lance’s hands, Emilio had already knitted his way into the quilt and secured his golden pattern to the outer edge.

 

* * *

 

  
**[ N E W ! ]**

  
_hey lance,_

_i tried texting to you today. i mean, texting my own phone from your phone? it didn’t work, so i’ll try to text you tomorrow and see what happens. anyway i texted you coz your mom took us to some weird ass cave by the beach and i had no idea where i was going and wanted to check if i wasn't about to join some cult or something. i’m not interested in joining cults, lance._

_but we went and did the yearly quilt offering and i know this is gonna sound weird but don’t laugh at me ok. it was amazing? like i didn’t know your family held such a long and cool tradition, i just thought knitting was you guys’s hobby or something. your mother’s patterns were seriously incredible. yours were pretty cool too._

_can i ask where your family comes from? i know you’re latinos but i'm not an asshole, i’m not gonna assume you're from mexico just because you speak spanish. so yea if you don’t want to talk about it it’s fine but just thought i’d ask._

_ps. those things on your eyelids? they’re dicks. a cluster of small dicks. have fun rubbing them off._

 

 

* * *

 

Keith woke up in Lance’s body two days later. He didn’t expect to get a reply to his last message while not on his own body, but the bright red of a notification proved him wrong.

  
**[ N E W ! ]**

_check them voice memos lactase jackass_

  
Keith didn’t know what he expected to find, but it wasn’t this.

_“Whaddup, Keithy Boy!”_

His breath hitched at the voice he knew so well, the voice he heard voicing his thoughts from time to time. It was a voice he’d come to associate with a warm breeze, with the smell of salt in the air, with sunny days and loud mornings.

 _“I know, I know. This is weird, right? I don’t know what I was thinking when I decided to do this, but to hell with it. Yolo, y’know?”_ He heard Lance chuckle, breaths loud against the microphone. _“Anyway, you asked about my family and this is my answer. There’s never a short answer with the McClains, so hold tight onto your horse, cowboy. You’re in for a wild, confusing ride._

_I was born in Varadero, Cuba, which is actually a pretty touristic area. Varadero is beautiful, Keith, you’d love it. There’s this pizza shack by the beach, serves the best pizza in the world, I’m not kidding. And the water’s like, turquoise. It’s so clean and fresh, man. Mierda, I really miss it.”_

Keith paused the message. He checked the length. Eight minutes and forty-three seconds. Lance really went all out, didn’t he?

But it was a Sunday, and Keith had all the time in the world to listen to Lance ramble.

_“Sorry, I just — do you ever miss Texas? Shit, sorry, coño, I don’t even know if you liked living back there. You don’t have to answer that, okay? Forget I asked.”_

Keith tucked himself under Lance’s baby blue covers, trying to keep the smile off his face.

_“Yeah, so, we’re all Cuban. Mamá’s from Varadero too, but my father’s from La Habana. He’s not Irish, but my great-great-grandfather, I think, he was the one who got to Cuba and brought the McClain last name. Mi abuelito told us the story once, and I was really young so I might not remember all the details, but it goes like this: everyone in Ireland was dying, famished, and families began sending their children to America, like always, so they could live and send some money back. My great-great-grandfather arrived in New York first to work, but as soon as he gathered some money he decided to leave because the Irish weren’t really welcomed back then. Kind of like how white people reject latinos now, because immigrants, tú sabes._

_So he up and left, I think his family in Ireland died or something. Well, in the end, he went down to Florida, made some friends but also some enemies apparently. To avoid paying off money he owed, he got into a boat and arrived in Cuba where he met a nice girl and settled down. They had dozens of kids, and then one of those kids had another batch of children, and then one of those children had my dad.” Lance paused to take a breath. “Fuck, this is getting long. Okay, so Papá met Mamá during a trip to beach, right. The Villamar side of the family has been in Cuba for centuries and they’ve owned a restaurant chain in Varadero for just as long, I swear. God, I’m getting carried away again. Where was I?”_

Outside Lance’s room, silence ruled over the house. There was no wailing to be heard, no screaming nor shouting, no toasters beeping. Keith was glad for the quiet, for he could hear Lance better this way. He didn’t know _when_ Lance had recorded this, but his hushed tones and low laughs made him think it had been sometime in the middle of the night.

It was weird hearing Lance talk. Not a bad weird, just different. Keith may have heard that voice whenever he spoke, but it lacked Lance’s accent, his quick pace and high-pitched sounds whenever he got too excited. The entire way Lance spoke was so different to Keith’s, no wonder Hunk had suggested he was an impostor.

_“—makes Emilio the first of us to be born stateside, I guess—“_

Great. He’d just missed two minutes of McClain History. Rewind.

_“They met at the restaurant, had a summer love that turned into six children, yada yada. So the thing is, we actually lived in Varadero until I was like, eight years old? Cuba had been under Castro’s dictatorship since the Cold War, and I’m not gonna lie, the situation’s still terrible back home from what I’ve heard, has been for the longest time. I don’t remember much, but I know it was real bad. I was five years old, maybe, when my dad left for Miami. He’d already had his citizenship — don’t ask me how, I seriously never asked him and don’t plan to. He began working and sending money back to us — and get this, Mamá had just given birth to Amanda — but one of his friends told him about a job opening in California and my father took the chance. The job was in one of the neighbouring cities, actually, but when he passed by our town, he fell in love with it. So, he got himself a house and a car to make the commute, and then he brought us all here._

_Dante and Deborah were the eldest, already teenagers, so they came first. You haven’t met Dante yet, but if this thing we’ve got lasts until Thanksgiving, then you might. He doesn’t live in California anymore, got himself a nice life in Seattle, but he usually makes it back for the holidays with his wife and kids. Uh, I came with Mamá and Amanda a year later, and we just became part of this town, y’know. Couple years after, my mom got pregnant again, which makes Emilio the first of us to be born stateside, I guess. And now we have Lily._

_So yeah, that’s the McClain story. Don’t forget to like and subscribe! I, uh, I’m really sorry this thing turned out so long, Keith. But, if you actually listened through the whole thing — thank you. Seriously, thanks for actually taking an interest in my family. It made me really happy, that you asked about them. Not that you’d care whether I was happy or not but, yeah. Thanks, Keithy Boy. Oh! And I tried to call you earlier tonight, but it wouldn’t go through. Maybe we can’t contact each other for some divine reason? Whatever, it’s late. I should go to sleep. Night, samurai.”_

The note ended there. Keith stared hard at the phone until the light dimmed. He saw Lance’s faint reflection on staring at him through the dark screen.

He pressed ‘play’ one more time.

 

* * *

 

“You up for the arcade after this?”

Pidge licked the pistachio flavoured ice cream off her plastic spoon. “Can’t. Doctor’s appointment.”

Lance cocked his head. “Again? You’ve been saying that like, every day for the past two weeks. Is everything okay?”

Pidge paused. She gave him a look through her glasses. Glasses, Lance had found out, that were for ‘aesthetic purposes’ only.

“Look, it’s not that I didn’t want to tell you,” she fidgeted with her spoon. “I just wasn’t sure whether it would actually go this far and I didn’t want to get my hopes up, you know? I didn’t want to get all pumped up for this and tell you but then hear the doctors change their mind or something —“

“Pidge.” Lance cut her off, eyes gentle. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

Avoiding his eyes, she took a deep breath and set her jaw, looking like she was preparing herself for battle.

“I’m starting hormone replacement therapy today.”

“What?”

“The reason I’ve been going to the hospital every day is because my doctor _finally_ thinks that I’m ready to get off those puberty blockers. They’ve been running some weird, kind of invasive tests the whole week, but in the end I got the green light.” Pidge waved her hands around as she spoke, a sign that she was nervous. “Since I’m about to turn fifteen but graduating this year, my doctor thinks it’d be best if I began treatment now, so that I’ll have more time to adjust to the changes in my body and go through college without looking like an elementary student.”

Puberty blockers.

Hormone replacement therapy.

When Lance began questioning his sexuality, back when he’d been the pre-pubescent new kid in school, he’d done his fair share of research. He didn’t want to live up to the ‘uncultured small town boy’ stereotype. His road to self-discovery also led him to understanding the LGBT+ community and all of the issues that plagued them. He’d embraced his bisexuality at a young age, and was relieved to find that most of his neighbours supported him, or did not care.

Even though there weren’t any trans people — at least, not that he knew of — in Bahía Azul. He’d seen a few in Cuba, however, the last time they’d gone down there for a funeral.

Pidge was a trans girl, and she was moving on with her transition.

“But that’s great news, right?” Lance smiled at her, almost shaking with his own excitement. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it. What are you so worried about?”

“I’m worried my mother will call it off at the last second.” Pidge sighed.

Lance blinked. “She would — she’d _what_.”

“She’s been reading some shit on the internet about how the therapy can have some nasty side effects if you do it before you’re like, eighteen or something, but I can’t wait around any longer, Keith. I really need this.” Pidge groaned, dropping her head onto her hands. “It feels like every time we’re in the same room, she’s gonna start asking me if I’m making the right choice.”

Lance didn’t think twice before wrapping an arm around her bony shoulders. “Your mother will come around. She will, you’ll see. You’re gonna start your treatment, get better day by day, _graduate_ , and continue to thrive as the young, _genius woman_ you are. Sure, things may get rough, but you’ll pull through, Pidge. You’ve got this.”

Both cups of ice cream were forgotten. Pidge stared at Lance with watery amber eyes, something she’d deny later on. He only tightened his hold on her, smiling down with what he hoped looked reassuring, but with Keith’s features it was always a gamble whether Lance could pull off an expression or not.

Pidge threw her arms around his middle and pulled back. Blink and you miss it.

“You know, Keith,” she dropped her eyes. “You’re actually good older brother material.”

Lance beamed at the compliment.

“I am, aren’t I?”

When he finally got back to his own body the next day, he found a new message from Keith. But it wasn’t the kind of message he was used to.

It was a Voice Note.

Lance checked the time. Technically, he still had about three minutes before he was supposed to get up. Keith’s message lasted six.

  
**[ P L A Y ]**

  
_“Hey, Lance.”_ Keith’s voice was low in his ear, so much he had to turn up the volume. _“I’m not, uh, good with words? But writin’ seemed off after the message ya recorded, so. This’ll probably be the first and last time I do this, but whatever. I just wanted to tell ya, I’m glad you told me those things ‘bout your family? Ya didn’t have to, but I really liked it. Your family’s really cool, Lance. They’re – they’re wonderful people. All of you.”_

Lance felt his chest constrict at the sincerity in Keith’s voice. He didn't know Keith felt that way about his family, that he actually enjoyed spending time with them when they switched. It made his stomach want to cave into itself.

_“I guess I thought I could tell ya some stuff ‘bout my own family? It ain’t pretty like your story, though, so I get it if ya don’t wanna listen. Just turn it off or somethin’.” Keith paused, then rushed to say. “It’s not all bad, though! I just, didn’t have the best of luck, y’know. Never met my mother. I mean, I guess I did ‘cause I have a picture of her, holdin’ me when I was a baby, but she disappeared soon after I was born. I’ve no fuckin’ clue whether she died or if she just left. My dad never talked ‘bout her. I know she was Korean, but nothing else. I never got around to ask.”_

Lance didn’t pause the recording, taking his phone with him as he went to lock the door and returned to his bed.

_“I lived with him in the outskirts of San Antonio. Our house was just a shack in the desert, really. It was real small and got flooded whenever it rained. The nearest settlement was a trailer park, and then the city. I didn’t have a lotta friends when I was a kid, but I’ve always been kind of a loner, so maybe it was for the best. I liked playin’ in the dirt by myself, and talkin’ to the trailer kids was exhaustin’ anyway._

_Dad died when I was seven. I mean, I think he died. He didn’t come home one day and I sat around and waited for like a week until I realized he wasn’t coming back. Called the police myself and social services handled the rest. I got passed around the state for years afterwards. Not gonna lie, I had a lotta anger issues, most orphanages got sick of me pretty quickly. I wasn’t a baby either, so no one really tried to adopt me.”_

Lance pictured a tiny Keith, running around a nun’s legs and trying to bite other children for taking his dirt. Then he pictured a sad, lonely Keith, just barely ten years old and with no one left in the world. He pushed the thought away as soon as it came.

_“I was like, ten, when I got to a foster home in Houston. The couple running it didn’t care much for the kids, just the money, but they didn’t bother us if we didn’t bother ‘em and the woman cooked a real mean meatloaf. It wasn’t a bad home, all things considered. They sent me to school in the area, and when I got into too many fights too frequently, they signed me up for one of those Big Brothers Big Sisters programs. And guess who got stuck with me for little brother?”_

Keith laughed quietly, and Lance couldn’t help but smile. Laughing sounded good coming from Keith.

_“Takashi Shirogane. Poster child for everythin’ that was good in the world, best quarterback in the history of his high school, future police officer. Really, what’s not to like? He was the perfect Big Brother, but I was an angry kid who gave him hell for the first six months we spent together. Most people ask for a switch if they don’t get along with their assigned siblings after so long, but Takashi didn’t. He hunted me down every day and taught me to play basketball, took me to the arcade or to the freakin’ cat shelter he volunteered at. I guess, after a while, he kinda just grew on me and I started seein’ him as a real brother._

_After a year in the program, he took me to meet his parents. The Shiroganes were really nice people, and I don’t know what they saw in me but they took me in. Before I knew it, I was out of the foster home and legally Takashi’s brother. We all moved to San Francisco when Shiro got accepted into college. That’s how he met Matt Holt, by the way. He’s Pidge’s brother and Takashi’s best friend, and then Pidge and I became best friends. And here’s where things get…difficult._

_Three years ago, we’d been drivin’ down the highway to Texas to visit some relatives. It was early in the evening, and I – I remember being so moody that day, because I hate long drives and trips that last over an hour, but Shiro, he was, he tried to cheer me up by singing Aqua’s Barbie Girl at the top of his lungs, and our parents were laughin’ along and —“_

Keith’s voice cut off. Lance heard a sniff, so quiet he thought for a second he’d imagined it.

_“Next thing I know, I’m alone again and sitting in the ER waitin’ for Shiro to come out of surgery.” His voice wavered on the next sentence. “Our mom, she was— she was drivin’, died on the impact. Father didn’t make it out of the ambulance. I dunno how long I sat there, lookin’ at the window. There was a meteor shower that night, but all I could think of was how I wished Takashi were sittin’ next to me and not lyin in a bed with his fuckin’ arm ripped out.”_

Lance rubbed at his eyes. Shit. Suddenly, Shiro’s bionic strength didn’t seem as cool it used to.

_“Okay, this word vomit needs to stop. Tragic backstory shouldn’t be unlocked until like, level 300. Whatever. Um, I hope this didn’t weird you out or anythin’, but I guess I wanted ya to know. So, yeah. That’s my family story. I’m gonna go now. Goodnight, Lance.”_

Keith’s message ended there. Lance grabbed fresh clothes and locked himself in the bathroom. After washing away his beauty products — and Keith must have learnt to follow instructions at some point, because his face mask had been done almost flawlessly for a change —, Lance stepped under the shower and let the warm water fall around him.

He stayed there until Amanda threatened to knock the door down.

Before he left for school that morning, Lance made sure to grab a ball of red wool and his knitting needles from the supply closet.

 

* * *

 

_“—but man, you should’ve seen Hunk’s face! Shay’s got a saint’s patient but like, come on, guy bakes you the perfect creme brule on a Wednesday but takes over ten whole minutes of stuttering to ask you out on a date? No, son. Shay Balmera ain’t having none of that shit.”_

__

Keith threw his head back in a laugh, hitting the back of his skull with the bed’s headboard. He paused Lance’s message. Keith groaned and rubbed at the now tender spot. Fuck this shit.

“Who are you talking to?”

Keith almost got whiplash turning to the voice. Shiro leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest and a box of Lucky Charms nestled between them.

“No one.” Keith locked his phone. He’d listen to the rest of the recording later. “Did no one ever teach ya to knock?”

Shiro sauntered into the room, flopping his ass down next to Keith on the mattress.

“I did knock,” Shiro argued. “You were just too busy laughing with someone over the phone to hear it.”

“I wasn’t talkin’ to anyone, Takashi.” Keith pushed his brother away.

“Is it a boy?”

“Tay-kesha, stop.”

“Don’t call me that.” Shiro punched him lightly in the shoulder. “Come on, Keith, I’m your brother. You can talk to me about this stuff.”

“No, I can’t.”

Shiro beamed. “So you admit there is a boy to talk about?”

“He’s just a friend, okay!” Keith groaned, closing his eyes. He could feel a headache coming in. “There’s nothin’ to talk about.”

“What’s his name?”

“Shiro, go away.”

“Is he cute? Does he go to your school? _Does he like you back?_ ”

Keith jumped off from the bed and marched out of the room. Shiro followed him to the kitchen, keeping his hyena-cackles hidden beneath his metal hand.

“Keith, where you going?”

“I’m gonna drown myself.”

“Running from your problems isn’t gonna take you anywhere, Keith.”

“It’ll take me to my grave, at least.”

 

* * *

 

Talking to Keith over the phone had become a daily occurrence.

Okay, so maybe it wasn’t really talking over the phone, but they left each other messages every night they spent in each other’s body. One for the other to hear in the morning they woke up during the switch, and one to talk about what they’d done that day.

Lance was getting a little addicted to Keith’s voice.

“There’s this guy who’s been coming to Altea lately.” Lance went on, hugging his knees close to his chest. “His name’s Lotor Prince, I think. Maybe you’ve met him already? Anyway, he’s got super long white hair, like some Lucius Malfoy shit cosplayer. He keeps trying to ask Allura out, she keeps rejecting him, but you really missed the best of it the other day. ‘Lura usually just turns him down, but this time she said she was busy that day. Lotor asked what she was doing, and you won’t believe what she said!”

Lance cut himself off to laugh at the memory.

“She said, and I quote, ‘once a month, Keith and I take a whole day to treat ourselves.’ I almost died right there! And she didn’t stop with that, no, she went and asked _me_ : ‘And what do we treat ourselves to?’ And seriously, I think that was the best moment in my entire life. Lotor looked downright constipated—“

There was a knock on his door. Lance got up, phone in hand without pausing the recording.

“Sorry, someone just knocked. I’m gonna check what they want real quick.”

He unlocked the door and was surprised to find Emilio standing before him, his baby blanket tucked under his armpit.

Lance brought the phone up near his lips and whispered.

“Hey, Keith? I think Emilio had a nightmare. I’m gonna let him in and go to sleep, ‘kay? I’ll tell you the rest tomorrow. Night, cowboy.”

Once he’d saved the message, Lance scooped Emilio up in his arms and carried him to the bed. He turned off the light by the nightstand and wrapped his brother under his covers. Lance got out of his shirt and joined Emilio.

“What was it this time, campeón?”

Emilio avoided his eyes. “Tuve un sueño feo.”

Lance bopped his nose, earning a smile from his brother. “Oh, yeah? Well, worry no more, because Big Brother Lance is here now. ¡Ningún sueño feo puede vencerme!”

Despite the warm air coming in through the window, they huddled closer. Emilio dozed off not long after that. Lance moved to lie on his back and stared at the plastic stars above him. Did Keith ever do this? Just lie there on Lance’s bed, staring at the ceiling without a care in the world. Maybe the stars comforted Keith the same way they comforted Lance. Maybe Lance should buy some stars for Keith’s room. Keith would like that, wouldn’t he?

Lance fell asleep with a smile on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _tuve un sueño feo – i had a nightmare_   
>  _¡ningún sueño feo puede vencerme! - no nightmare can beat me!_
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> i can't believe the response this fic has gotten. it's seriously astounding. thank you so much for reading and commenting, it makes me so happy to see you guys are like this! we only have like one or two chapters before the real shit goes down, so let's all enjoy the fluff and soft pining while we can.
> 
> the art in this fic was done by the amazing [@salamandraimoral](http://salamandraimoral.tumblr.com)!


	6. the one where keith is extra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People make mistakes and twilight is, indeed, the most magical time of the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been definitely over a month... i'm sorry, i have no excuse. but here's another 6k monster to make up for it! we're finally moving into the real plot guys, i'm very excited and very scared.
> 
> also, for the record, i love nyma. can't say that keith feels the same way.
> 
> enjoy!!

Humans are creatures of habit. We depend on constants, routines, the familiarity of actions. We rely on muscle memory, on whatever our brain has labeled as a warning sign. Now you see, Lance is human, and he’s grown accustomed to recognizing an imminent tragedy by the sound of Hunk’s drawn-out whines. The moment Lance turned and saw Nyma Tanaka striding purposefully in his direction, he knew shit would be going down.

He did not see the blow coming, though.

“Nyma, what the fuck!” Lance shouted, holding his nose and cringing at the wet sensation on his fingertips.

Hunk rushed to his side, quickly making work of tipping Lance’s head back and swatting his hands away.

Nyma shook her hand, unbruised and with rage in her eyes. “Be glad I didn’t break your arm this time, asshole.”

“Verga, Nyma. Seriously, qué carajo te pasa.” Lance rasped out, blinking away the tears gathered in his eyes. “The fuck you do that for?”

“Cut the crap, McClain. You know exactly why I did it.”

“Sorry to disappoint, Tanaka, but I _really_ don’t.”

Nyma drew out a phone from her back pocket. She fooled with the screen and shoved it into Lance’s tipped-back face.

He was met with a video. Of himself. Playing basketball in a semi-empty court. Only, it couldn't have been Lance, because _Lance_ doesn’t know how to play basketball.

Which only left one option: Keith.

 _“Yo, McClain!”_ Lance watched Keith stop his drills and turn towards the person holding the phone. He didn’t recognize the voice, but the person clearly knew him. _“Dude, heard you asked Nyma Tanaka to prom. Sly dog, she’s got a sweet ass. You planning on getting some at the after party, right.”_

Lance’s face did a weird thing between a scowl and a grimace. Keith began twirling the ball between his fingers. _“Wouldn’t touch that with a ten-foot pole.”_

_“Man, what the hell? It’s Nyma. Anyone would kill to tap that. Didn’t you say you wanted to bang her since like, freshman year?”_

Keith suddenly slammed the ball into the ground. _“Get that shit away from my face, Montgomery.”_

Chris Montgomery, vice-captain of every varsity team in their town, pushed on with the goddamn iPhone 5 his parents had gotten him for Christmas. He laughed, prodding naively at the volcano before him and dragging his words teasingly. _“Oh, I see. She turned you down, then. Is she too much for you to handle, McClain? Are you scared?”_

_“Yeah, scared of bimbo diseases. I’d rather someone with a brain—“_

And the video ended there.

“Nyma, I—“

“Bimbo diseases? Someone with a brain?” Nyma scoffed. “If this is about the time I stole your bike in middle school—“

“That was sophomore year, actually.” Hunk helpfully interjected.

“—then you need to grow the fuck up, Lance. I thought we were friends. I mean, I already apologized, no one got hurt—“

“You chained him to a tree.” Hunk interjected, again.

Nyma exhaled loudly through her nose. “Hunk. Not helping.”

“Oh, I wasn’t trying to help you.” Hunk shrugged. “I’m just exposing the truth where it’s needed.”

“It’s not that, Nyma.” Lance assured her, head still tipped back and voice as awfully nasal as it could be. “I can explain—“

“Save it, McClain.” She flipped her golden dreadlocks over her shoulder. “And to think I was actually considering going to prom with you.”

With another flip of her locks, she sashed away from them. Rolo, who’d apparently been standing a few feet behind her, tipped his army snapback and followed suit.

“Sucks to suck,” he called out.

Lance agreed.

 

* * *

 

**[ P L A Y ]**

  
_“You are in so much shit, Kogane. So much. You’re drowning in shit right now, viejo. There’s a sea of dark, gooey shit and you’re right in the middle of it.”_

Keith stared at Lance’s phone screen with eyes wide as saucers. Well, wasn’t that an ice breaker.

_“Nyma broke my nose. She punched me during lunch, at the courtyard, in front of everyone. I bled for minutes, Keith. And this is all your fucking fault.”_

He jumped off the bed and into the bathroom. Keith checked himself in the mirror. There was gauze covering the bridge of his nose. It didn’t hurt, nor did it seem crooked, but the gauze was probably there to prevent some late-night bloody surprises. He cursed and ran out of the bathroom, passing a very confused Amanda on his way back.

“You can use it first!”

He slammed the door behind himself and locked it.

 _“Look,”_ he heard Lance sigh. _“I’ll be fine by tomorrow, but I still want to know why the fuck you thought saying that Nyma had bimbo diseases was a good idea. I mean, I get it if you don’t like her. You don’t know her that well, that’s okay, and she’s not the nicest of people either. But fuck, dude. You just blew my chances with her.”_

Keith looked up at the starry ceiling. The plastic looked green in the daytime.

_“And you know what? It’s fine. I’m not even that mad about it, I mean, I haven’t liked her in a long time. But you really didn’t need to say that, Keith. You made me sound like a real asshole. I don’t know about you, but I don’t do that, man. I don’t talk shit about girls, or boys for that matter. Except maybe about you, but you are an asshole and you know I don’t mean it. I guess I just— want to know why you said those things. That’s all.”_

Keith bit his lip. He didn’t mean for this to happen.

He pressed the recording button.

“I’m sorry.” The words rushed breathlessly from his mouth. “M’sorry, Lance. I didn’t, I didn’t mean for this to happen, I swear. Didn’t think much of it when I said it. I don’t even know _why_ I said it, I have nothin’ against Nyma.”

 _Liar_ , a voice in his head whispered.

“I never thought she’d hear it or that she’d care, for that matter. Or that she’d break your nose. But I’ll make it up to you, Lance. I will. You can trust me on that.”

Of course, Keith had no idea how he’d make it up to Lance. Should he make him a giant sign with the word **SORRY** in bold letters and hang it in his wall? Fill Lance’s locker with those Smurf Pop Tarts he liked so much? Hunk could totally bake him Pop Tarts, too, if he asked nicely. Which, in retrospect, probably wouldn't work out that well considering it was a surprise for Lance and it wouldn't make sense if Lance himself had asked for them.

He decided to look for the help of the wisest person he’d met in this town.

“¿Mamá?” Keith flinched at the boisterous sound of the washing machine. “You got a minute?”

“¿Qué pasó, mijo?” Carmen shouted back, crouched in front of the machine as she separated the white clothes from the rest of the following dirty pile.

“Let’s say I fucked up with a close friend—“

Carmen shot up, scandalized. “You fucked a close friend?”

“What. No! Mom, I said _fucked up_ —!”

“Lance Alejandro McClain, watch that mouth!” she continued to shout. “Now, it’s none of my business if you aren’t a virgin anymore, but you better be careful and responsible, young man. Condoms weren’t just made to prevent pregnancies, y’know. STDs are a real issue—!”

Keith shook his head and began walking backwards towards the doorway. “Sorry, mom. I can’t— I can’t hear ya! You’re cutting out!”

The washing machine stopped its whirring and Carmen placed her hands on her hips. “Lance, this is a face-to-face conversation.”

“Nope!” Keith shouted as he retreated.

Naturally, there was only one other person he could trust on this matter.

“How do I make it up to someone I really didn’t mean to fuck things up with?” Keith fired as soon as he reached Hunk, lunch tray hitting the table with far more force he had meant to put in.

Hunk stared at him blankly, fork raised in the air.

“Is this about Nyma?” He questioned around a mouthful of poke.

“Oh, no. Not really.”

Hunk stared.

“Kinda.”

He didn’t even blink, damn it.

“Okay, yes. But I ain’t tryin’ to make it up to _her_ , if that’s what you’re wondering.” Keith reluctantly admitting, stabbing the gooey, questionable Mac ’N’ Cheese on his plate. “I said something I shouldn’t have — ya know this already — and I ended up upsetting someone because of it. Someone who is _not_ Nyma, but that is classified information and m’afraid I ain’t allowed to disclose it.”

Hunk narrowed his eyes. “You keeping secrets from me now, buddy?”

“I just need to sort some stuff out before I tell ya, Hunk.” Keith sighed. “You’ll find out soon enough. Don’t worry, ‘kay?”

“If you say so.” Hunk continued to look at him suspiciously, but he let it go, a rare act of mercy. “I can’t give you good advise if you don’t tell me more about this secret someone. I mean, I guess it’s obvious, but apologizing would be a good start.”

“Been there, done that.” Keith groaned. “I just want them to know that I’m not that kind of person. That I don’t really say that shit, that I didn’t mean to and won’t do it again.”

“I know this might sound unhelpful but, _talking_? That stuff goes a long way. Seriously, Lance, communication is key to every relationship. You want them to know you’re sorry? Say it. Say it once, say it twice, in any way you can think of. Whatever you feel, let it out for once in your life. Be _honest_ with them.”

“Honesty is the best policy!” Shay helpfully supplied as she appeared from thin air.

Keith glared at the girl now sitting beside him. “Were you eavesdropping just now.”

“Totally.” Shay beamed with her perfect white teeth. “Now, spill. Do we know this secret someone?”

“You don’t, thank fuck.”

“Lance, that’s not nice.”

“You’re not nice.”

“Are they the reason you’re so attached to your phone lately?” Hunk questioned as he packed away his lunchbox. Keith felt his chest constrict, like the oxygen levels in the cafeteria had dropped without warning.

He gulped.

“I have no idea what you’re talkin’ ‘bout.”

Since before he left San Antonio, back before his father disappeared and he was passed on from city to city, Keith had been somewhat of a problem child. He was the kid who bit anyone that got close enough to him in the playground, the kid who made dinosaur noises instead of speaking, the kid that hissed at the teachers whenever he’d get scolded.

When Keith got it in his head that he wanted to become an archeologist, at the tender age of seven, he sneaked out of his foster home whenever he could and dug holes around the dry patches of Texas land near the highway. One time when he was fourteen, Shiro convinced Keith that if he camped out on their backyard for more than two weeks, the aliens would come for him. Keith refused to sleep inside the house for two and a half months.

Keith would be the first to admit that he was kind of, maybe, a little intense. Which is why the idea of a verbal apology didn’t sit well for him. Actions speak louder than words — Keith stood firmly by that. He didn’t want Lance to think that he was another douchebag jock from the big city.

He also didn’t want to explain why he’d spat out venom at the mention of Lance wanting to bang some blond cheerleader.

Keith kicked a stone and watched it bounce further down the wooden boardwalk.

There was a soft sound to his left. Keith stopped in his tracks, brows furrowing. He concentrated on his hearing. Was that a whine?

It only got louder the closer he got to the shops facing the beach. Bahía Azul was the kind of town where there weren’t any cafés or big food chains, but instead you’d find yourself with two pubs right next to each other. Keith crouched by the corner of Milo’s Dinner, near the alley where the small-business dumpsters created a giant garbage cluster. There, practically hidden by the brick wall, laid a cardboard box with the word **FREE** written on the lid.

The whines were coming from inside the box.

Keith lifted the lid and was met with a pair of ice blue eyes and white fur.

Shiro would call him extra for doing this.

 

* * *

 

Lance woke to a giant **SORRY** on his arm and a ball of fluff on his chin.

“Qué carajo…?”

He gently removed the white cat from his body and placed it on his bedsheets. It didn’t even open its eyes, purring softly and unbothered. Lance decided it would be best not to disturb her and reached for his phone. Keith better have a damn good explanation for this.

There were two voice notes waiting for him.

Huh.

  
**[ P L A Y ]**

  
_“I’m sorry.”_ Keith’s words came rushed into his ears, Lance’s own voice taking that distinct tilt it always got whenever Keith spoke in his body. _“M’sorry, Lance. I didn’t, I didn’t mean for this to happen, I swear.”_

Lance sneaked a glance at the sleeping ball resting by his thigh. He listened through Keith’s apology. Everyone made mistakes, Lance knew this better than anyone else. It wasn’t even that big of a deal. Yes, Nyma rejected him. Yes, Lance ended up looking like a jerk. But it wasn’t worth getting into an actual fight with Keith.

He checked the second message.

  
**[ P L A Y ]**

  
_“Okay, you’re probably wondering why there’s a cat on your bed. Or maybe not. Maybe ya haven’t seen it yet, but the thing is— I got you a cat yesterday.”_

What the fuck, Keith.

 _“Shit, that sounded weird. Anyway, long story short: I found her in box next to Milo’s, crying. She’s a baby, Lance. She was all alone, abandoned in a dark alley without food or water. Been there, done that, but come on. Ya don’t just let kittens die, what is wrong with people.”_ Lance let out a chuckle at the outrage in Keith’s voice. _“I couldn’t leave her there, y’know. I carried her back here, swung by the grocery store and got some cat food and supplies. And before ya ask, I did check with your mom and she was surprisingly enthusiastic ‘bout this. Said as long as we take care of her responsibly and get her checked at the vet regularly, we can keep her.”_

Lance slowly tapped the cat’s head with his fingertips. She opened her baby blue eyes, yawned, and went back to slumber. Lance’s heart melted in the spot.

_“This might’ve been a stupid idea, though. I mean, I don’t even know if ya like cats. You kinda seemed like a dog person to me but— just look at her, Lance.”_

“Oh, I am.” Lance whispered to the empty room. “She’s adorable.”

 _“She’s adorable.”_ Keith announced gravelly, almost like he was confirming the death of an important public figure. _“I also swung by the grocery store, gotcha some supplies and cat food. Shiro used to have one, years ago. It was the devil incarnate, but I did learn some stuff from it and that time I worked at the cat shelter. I’m pretty sure she’s healthy, and pretty clean when I found her, so she couldn’t have been abandoned for too long. I left ya a list on the fridge, everything ya gotta feed her and do for her’s there. Oh, and don’t even think about giving her milk. Cats are lactose intolerant once they get off their mama’s milk, y’know.”_

Lance snorted, running his fingers across the kitten’s fur. “I knew it. You’re not just a cat person. You’re a cat, buddy. Can’t deny the truth anymore, Keith. You’ve been exposed.”

 _“I didn’t give here a name,”_ Keith admitted. _“You should do it. I mean, I got her for ya but she’s gonna be your cat, right? Just— don’t call her anything weird, man. She doesn’t need to suffer because you named her something like Stapler or some shit.”_

That sounded more like something Keith would do. But Lance wouldn’t subject such a cutie to that treatment. He prided himself in giving the best nicknames to his friends, like the time he managed to get their entire middle school class to call Hunk ‘Hunkules’ for an entire year. And despite what Hunk himself might’ve said, Kaltenecker was an amazing name for a cow and a truck.

He scratched the kitten behind her ear and she let out a high-pitched meow. He stared into her eyes, small and bright blue like the water back in Varadero.

“How’d you like the name Blue, beautiful?”

She meowed again, soft and long. It sounded like a yes to him.

He grabbed his phone and began recording, unable to keep the smile off his face. He was sure Keith would be able to hear it in his voice. “We need to talk joint custody, Kogane. You brought her into this house, you take legal responsibility for her, too. I am _not_ going to be a single parent.”

Lance was still smiling by the time he reached the breakfast table, Blue carefully balanced on the crook of his arm. He gave his mother a quick kiss on the cheek and tore Keith’s note from the fridge.

“Ma, where did I put the cat food yesterday?”

“Second cabinet, bottom shelf.”

Amanda approached while he poured Blue’s breakfast in an ice-cream shaped cup he was sure hadn’t been used in a while. He’d have to buy her a proper bowl next time he went out.

“It’s so precious.” Amanda cooed. “We must protect it from your klutz hands.”

Lance looked down upon her. “Excuse you. I’ll have you know, I was voted Most Graceful in the yearbook.”

“That’s not even a category.”

“Ah, but I would’ve won it if it was.”

Amanda rolled her eyes and sat by Emilio. Lance placed Blue’s bowl next to his own chair, careful not to knock it over and keeping a watchful eye on the kitten while he ate his revoltillo. He took a moment to simply look at his family. Emilio was stabbing his revoltillo, Amanda was alternating cutting and texting, his mother sipped at her fresh glass of pineapple juice while she attempted to feed Lily, pieces of egg falling into the baby chair and yellow stains on her baby dip. Carmen’s plate remained empty, her portion of revoltillo safely kept in the warm pan so she could eat once Lily finished.

It was the perfect Sunday morning in the McClain household.

“Would’ve won what?”

Until it wasn’t.

All heads turned to the newcomer. What had once been a lively scene had become silent, the quiet enveloping the room like a thick blanket. There was no more texting, no more snarky comments or the clatter of cutlery.

“¡Papá!”

Carmen was the first to look away, bringing the spoon to Lily’s mouth as soon as she opened it. Amanda went back to her phone, Emilio went back to his food. Lance’s father did what he did best and ignored the tension that had descended upon his arrival. He plopped into the empty chair at the head of the table.

Lance clenched his fists.

It had been far too long since his father had eaten breakfast with them.

“What were you guys talking about?” He asked as he served himself a portion of revoltillo. Lance hoped there was enough left for Mamá.

“School stuff.” Amanda replied without looking up from her screen. “Nothing important.”

Lance kept his mouth shut.

_Please don’t bring it up, please don’t bring it up—_

“Speaking of school,” he angled himself to address Lance. “Have you registered for the new semester? There’s not much time left before you graduate. You need to start taking deadlines seriously and apply soon. Community college does not mean a guaranteed seat if you apply late.”

He felt his nails digging into his skin.

Carmen levelled her husband with a look. “Felipe, please.”

“What? He needs to take college seriously, Carmen. I can’t hire him at the town hall if he doesn’t get his degree first.”

“Do you really need to talk about this now? Can’t we just have one normal breakfast—“

“This is a normal breakfast—“

Amanda’s eyes were glued to her phone. Emilio munched on a bite repeatedly, unable to swallow. Lily banged her spoon on her baby chair.

Lance let out a long breath through his nose.

“I’m not going to community college.”

Again, the silence.

No one looked at him but his father.

“We’ve talked about this, son.”

“No, _you’ve_ talked about what _you_ want.” Lance’s voice wavered. “We never talk about what _I_ want. I’m not going to community college. I’m going to study Astrophysics in Berkeley, not Political Science in the next town over.”

“Astrophysics,” his father repeated. “And what are you going to do with a degree in that? Please don’t tell me you still want to be an astronaut, Lance. That Star Wars obsession has gone on for too long.”

“Papá, it’s got nothing to do with Star Wars!” Lance shouted in disbelief. “I like space, and I like physics, and I want to study something that I like. Maybe I won’t be an astronaut but there are other jobs I could take. I could join a branch of NASA, or work for a research institute, or become a teacher—“

Felipe slammed his hand on the table. “You are not going to waste away your life chasing a childish dream. I am not losing another child to delusions. You’re not going to leave this town and that’s final.”

“Watch me.”

Lance raised himself from the chair. He grabbed Blue with one hand and ignored his mother’s calls. The only sound louder than his heart was the front door slamming shut behind him.

He was suddenly struck with a memory of Shiro sitting beside him in their two-bedroom apartment's small balcony. He can’t remember why he’d been so upset that day, so overwhelmed, but he’d ended up puffy-eyed and hiding his face in the sleeves of an oversized Shrek sweater he’d bought for Keith on a whim.

“I just feel trapped all the time,” he’d told Shiro that evening. “It’s like my mind can’t concentrate on anything because it keeps jumping from this to that, and the pressure inside me keeps building up and I still can’t find the right path. I mean, is there even a right path? What am I supposed to do as an adult, Takashi? I don’t think I’m ready for that.”

Shiro had pulled him closer then, ignoring the humidity of Californian nights and ruffling his hair. “Keith, being an adult doesn’t mean you suddenly wake up with eighteen and have your life put together. It takes time to figure that stuff out. I’m still figuring things out myself and I’m far from getting there. If anything, try to do the things that make you happy. You do you, little bro.”

“Just remember what I always say.” Shiro pressed their foreheads together, something Hunk used to do with him whenever Lance got too anxious and the room became too small. “Patience yields focus. You’ll get there. Eventually.”

Lance cradled Blue closer to his chest.

_Patience yields focus._

“Let’s take a long walk on the beach. How’s that sound, baby girl?”

Blue purred in response.

Lance chuckled, feet moving forwards and guiding him through a path he’d know even in blindness.

 

* * *

 

Keith cursed for what felt like the thousandth time in the day. No matter how slowly he did it, he just couldn't get the pattern right. Either it wasn’t tight enough, or he’d pull the knots over each other, or the webbing lost its shape. If it wasn’t for Blue’s calming presence in his lap, he’d have thrown the basket of yarn away and jumped off the nearest cliff.

“Tesoro, you’re pulling too tight, it’s gonna overlap.” Carmen pointed out. She sat beside him, two tall glasses of watermelon juice in her hands.

Keith dropped the needles. He took the glass from Lance’s mother. He hated watermelon, but Lance didn’t. He also hated rejecting Carmen’s food and the look that would cross her face whenever he did.

He tried to pull the threads together again. They overlapped.

Carmen laughed softly. “Give me that.”

Keith complied, bottom lip jutting into a pout. “I’m feeling frustrated.”

“Oh, finally, he talks!” Carmen joked, bumping shoulders. “I noticed, tesoro. That’s why I came over. You’ve been sitting here for quite a while. What’s on your mind now?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’m not thinking about anything specific. My mind’s just, a mess? I’m not even sure what I’m thinking of half of the time.”

“Then it’s just one of those days. It’ll pass, Lance. It always does.” She pulled on the threads until the failed bracelet Keith had been trying to make finally came apart. “Now, let’s try to focus on something. Who is this bracelet for?”

Keith felt himself flush. Oh shit.

“N-no one.”

She threw him a look. “Sure, Jan.”

“¡Mamá!”

 _Of course_ Lance’s mother would speak the same tongue as her son.

“Okay, I’ll back off.” Carmen threaded the first strings in the basic bracelet pattern and handed it over to Keith. “But focus on whoever you’re making this for and try again.”

But Keith wasn’t lying when he said he wasn’t making it for anyone. He really wasn’t. This wasn’t a bracelet for Lance. It was red and warm tones, and Lance had his own bracelets. If anything, Keith was making it for himself.

He thought about a folder in Lance’s camera roll, the one that contained dozens of selfies Lance had taken with Blue. The one folder Keith hadn’t been able to stop checking the entire morning. The folder that had a picture of Lance laughing, eyes crinkled with Blue scratching his face in a corner.

Maybe he just wanted to show Lance that he could do this, that he could be part of the family.

_Get over yourself, Kogane._

He pulled a thread, then crossed it over another, then under and over, under and over. Carmen sipped her drink beside him, watching him twist the cords into a decent pattern at last. They basked in the warm light of the sinking sun, the colors dripping from the sky as the dark blue closed in on the pink and orange hues.

“Twilight is a beautiful thing, isn’t it.” Carmen sighed wistfully. “You know, your abuela used to say that twilight was that time of the day where the realities met. Where the impossible became possible, where worlds connected.”

“There’s a word in Japanase for that, I think.” Keith hummed, recalling a vague story Shiro’s mom had once told him. “Tasogaredoki.”

“Tesoro, have you been watching anime again—“

Carmen cut herself off.

“Lance.” She stared at Keith with curious eyes, her face glowing in the dancing lights of dusk. “Are you dreaming right now?”

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she disappeared, and Keith was left in darkness.

 

_“Keith!”_

Where was that voice coming from?

_“Keith!”_

Who are you who are you who—

_“Don’t you remember me?”_

 

Keith gasped.

He wiped the sweat from his brow. He was back in his bedroom, sheets tangled between his legs. Light streamed from a gap between his curtains. Carmen wasn’t beside him, and he wasn’t sitting in a porch anymore.

His phone beeped. Keith reached over the nightstand. He couldn’t even remember falling asleep last night.

There was new text from _Allura._

  
**Allura Falra  [ 13 : 45 ]**

» Already omw! Traffic’s heavy, hope you don’t mind waiting for a bit. xx

 

“What the hell…” Keith’s fingers moved quickly over the screen to find the right application. There weren’t any new voice messages. He checked the Notes instead.

 

**[ N E W ! ]**

  
_KEEF_

_hello. so this is just a quick reminder that i snatched u a date with allura!! saturday, 2pm at the asian art museum. i really wanted to go on this date but if u get to go then enjoy it man!! have a nice time w/ allura and pls don’t be late keithers_

 

There was another paragraph underneath, but Keith didn’t bother to finish reading. He checked the time. He had less than ten minutes to meet Allura for a _fucking date_. Just great.

Keith ran past Shiro in the cleanest clothes he could find, ignoring the curious looks he got and bursting out the apartment door. He went around the back and took out his keys. Public transport was not an option if he wanted to make it on time. He paused to admire Scarlet. Her paint still glimmered with the sun. Keith turned the key into ignition and sped off in the direction of the museum.

“Oh, there you are!”

Of course, he got there late, but his forced date didn’t seem phased. Keith smiled and waved, feeling like his skin was suddenly too big for himself, but Allura pulled him in for a hug.

“I’m really excited about this new exposition,” she mentioned once they separated. “I heard they’d be showing the real models used for an animated film and I’m thrilled to see that.”

Keith nodded along, not trusting himself to speak. Allure’s yellow sundress made her look like spring incarnated, with the perfect big hat and her voluminous white hair. Keith felt a little underdressed.

“You look, uh, nice?” Keith smacked himself mentally. That was not supposed to come out as a question.

Allura huffed out a laugh. “Thank you, Keith. You don’t look too bad yourself.”

In between awkward silences and Allura wanting to go from one exhibition to the other, time flew past them. They ended up moving to another museum to check out a new photography exhibition. Allura spent what seemed hours in front of the black and white portraits. Keith followed behind, appreciating most of the pieces but none of them catching his eye.

Then they reached the end of the hall and he found himself rooted to the spot.

In front of him stood a white and black landscape of a massive lake that melted into the ocean. There was a forest surrounding the inner side of the lake, and sand bordering its meeting with open waters.

It felt awfully familiar.

“What are you looking at?” Allura asked, joining him.

“I’m not sure.” Keith answered.

The pair ended up eating at a Thai restaurant, sitting by the bar. Allura, to keep them from falling into more awkward silences, pulled question after question from her head. But Keith felt too weird, too out of place, and as much as he enjoyed Allura’s company on most days, this just felt too forced for him.

He excused himself to go to the bathroom. Once locked inside a stall, he unlocked his phone and looked for clues of why Lance had decided to torture him.

  
_since i know u are an awkward cowboy n prolly have never dated in ur poor existence, i decided to help u out!! heres a few links to some helpful articles for u_

  
Keith clicked on the first link. He scowled at the headline.

  
[CAPTAIN AWKWARD’S DATING GUIDE FOR GEEKS](https://captainawkward.com/category/captain-awkwards-dating-guide-for-geeks/)

  
He went back to the note and clicked on the second article.

  
[FLORIDA MAN SHOT AND KILLED AFTER DATE WITH WOMAN HE MET ONLINE](http://www.orlandoweekly.com/Blogs/archives/2016/08/23/florida-man-shot-and-killed-after-date-with-woman-he-met-online)

  
Keith would gut Lance McClain next time he was in his body.

  
[HOW TO DATE GIRLS: 12 STEPS (WITH PICTURES)](http://www.wikihow.com/Date-Girls)

  
“Forget this.” Keith sighed. “Just man up, Keith. You can do this.”

By the time he got back to their table, Allura had already finished her chicken. Keith hurried to finish his own plate, feeling unnerved again when she wouldn’t speak until a waiter came by with their bill.

“We’ll split it,” Allura told him.

“What– no, no. I’ll cover it, it’s fine.”

“Keith, it doesn’t matter.” She waved him off. “Splitting is easy, and it only seems fair since we’ve been splitting the cost for museum tickets so far.”

Oh. Right.

“Where do you want to go next?” Allura asked him with a smile, eyes crinkling at the corners. It reminded him of Lance.

Keith coughed sharply.

“Uh, wherever you want.” His lips pulled into a smile, but to Keith it felt like a grimace. “You lead the way!”

By the time dusk arrived, they’d made it back to the Asian Art Museum where they’d parked her car and his bike.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go somewhere else?” Keith asked, unable to help the sinking feeling of failure.

Even if it had been awkward, he never wanted to bore Allura. He genuinely liked being around her. He admired her determination and enthusiasm, the way she led the restaurant and could gush excitedly about the new make-up products she bought, or how she’d speak so passionately about the causes she cared about.

In the year he’d been working at Altea’s, Allura had become Keith’s friend.

“It’s getting late,” she excused herself. “There’s no need to drag this out, Keith. Don’t worry, I had a nice time with you today. I’ll see you on Monday?”

Keith nodded, slipping his hands into his jacket pockets in defeat.

Allura stopped walking, turning to face him. “Forgive me if I’m wrong, but I was under the impression that you used to have a crush on me before.”

Keith opened his mouth. Either to agree or to deny, he wouldn’t know. She cut him off before he could speak.

“But that’s in the past, isn’t it?” Allura teased him with a smile. “You’ve changed, Keith. Today you’re acting like a different person, but this isn’t anything new. There’s someone new in your life, someone you have feelings for.”

“Allura, listen—“

“Keith, it’s fine,” she laughed, like the chiming of bells. “I’m happy for you, I really am. We’re good friends, aren’t we? And I’m hoping we’ll get more chances to hang out like this, as friends.” She leaned in for a hug Keith was too slow to return, then disappeared into the night.

Keith leaned against Scarlet. He let out a long sigh and looked up at the darkening sky. What on earth made Lance think this would be a good idea?

He pulled out his cellphone and opened Lance’s note again.

  
_by the time the dates over u should be able to watch the comet fly by!!! watch out for it i heard its gonna be a massive light show when it passes. i’m headed to the town festival tonight u know the one to celebrate its foundation n stuff? anyway ill see it with the fam from there, u better tell me u liked it next time we talk!!_

 _kiss w/ a fist,_  
_lance xoxo_

  
Keith checked the sky again. He hadn’t heard anything about a comet. The sun continued to sink, dark blue swallowing the clouds, and still no sign of a comet. Maybe Lance had it wrong and it was another date? Or maybe they wouldn’t be able to see it from California.

His fingers moved smoothly across the screen. He scrolled through his – frankly quite short – contact list until he found the name he’d been looking for.

**LANCE MCCLAIN**

Keith looked up at the sky again and thought of Lance, bouncing excitedly by the pier and carrying Emilio in his shoulders, eager to watch a piece of space glide through their atmosphere.

Twilight was the moment where connections were made.

He pressed the ‘CALL’ button.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _¿qué carajo te pasa? - what the hell is wrong with you?_   
>  _¿qué pasó, mijo? - what happened, son?_
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> i'm sorry if any character seemed ooc. also, keith is petty when he pines and you can't convince me otherwise. the plot is moving forward, yay! and cats? cats. yes. 
> 
> i hope you guys liked this chapter. it was kind of hard to write and i got stuck quite a few times. i'm not sure when the next one will be up�, but hopefully it'll be soon. thank you again for the amazing response, you guys are incredible. every comment pushes me forward to keep writing, i read and appreciate every single one of them.
> 
> don't forget to check out my tumblr if you ever wanna talk!


	7. interlude: plastic stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Twilight marks the beginning of the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a very short update, but i felt it was necessary to make it a short interlude so we can move on from the first arc to the second one.
> 
> enjoy.

Lance’s phone rang.

He carefully lifted Blue from where she had been playing on his chest, placing her on top of his pillow instead. He rolled on the mattress until he hit the edge, reaching out an arm towards the floor. He patted around blindly, eyes too heavy to look for his phone.

He brought it up to his ear.

“Hello?”

_“Where have you been all day? I’ve been texting you but all I get is radio silence from you.”_

“Hey, Hunk.” Lance rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. “Sorry, buddy. I wasn’t feeling that well today.”

_“Are you sick?”_

He could practically hear Hunk frowning. Hunk’s mother once said that her son’s forehead would look like a grid before he reached thirty. Lance was inclined to believe her.

“I’m fine,” he lied, willing his lips to stretch into a grin. “I’ve been sleeping all day, so I’m good as new. Beauty like this doesn’t come effortless, buddy, it takes a lot of rest and high maintenance.”

He didn’t feel well-rested.

He hadn’t been sleeping, either. The plastic stars on his ceilings suddenly looked far more interesting than dreaming.

 _“Sure, Lance. Whatever you say.”_ Hunk didn’t sound too convinced, but he knew when to let things go if he wanted Lance to open up later. _“You’re still coming to the festival with us, right?”_

“Oh, I don't know.” Lance felt a real smile slipping through. “I wouldn’t want to third-wheel.”

 _“T-third— Lance, come on!”_ Hunk spluttered. _“Shay and I aren’t like that, man.”_

“Sure, Hunk. Whatever you say.”

_“She’s a great friend and a girl I admire very much. That’s all.”_

“Sounds like more than enough.” Lance teased.

 _“Shut your fuck.”_ Hunk shot back.

“Dude, that was _one time_. You can’t hold that against me forever.”

Hunk chuckled. _“Are you coming with us or not?”_

Lance pulled his phone away to check the time. It was already pretty late into the afternoon.

“Tell you what, how about I see you guys at the crossroad?” Lance suggested. “Then we can walk from the beginning of the boardwalk until we hit the shore. Meet you in an hour?”

Once everything was settled, he raised himself from the bed. Lance stretched his arms above his head, rolling his shoulders and cracking the kinks in his neck. He lowered his left hand and stared at his naked wrist. It felt too light.

Lance let Blue nap on his bed. If she woke up later, she’d know how to find her own bed. He pushed the bathroom door open and turned on the white lights, flinching when the room became too bright for his eyes. There were clear bags under his eyes, something he’d be disgusted at himself for any other day. He squinted at his own reflection. There was a pimple starting to grow on his cheek.

He sighed, running a hand through his chestnut hair. His fingers pulled at the strands curling around his nape. It was growing a little too long in the back. If he wasn’t careful enough, he’d end up with a mullet, too.

_Don’t think about him._

Lance closed his eyes. He was better than that.

He took his sweet time washing his face thoroughly, applying the right moisturizer afterwards and a spot cleanser to prevent a major breakout.

He checked his reflection one last time.

The house was relatively silent, the only noise coming from his parents’s bedroom. His siblings were likely at the festival already, and his father ought to have been at his office. That only left one person left in the house he could talk to.

“¿Mami?”

He pushed the door open and found his mother sitting in front of her vanity mirror, applying thick coats of mascara to her eyelashes. She brought a single finger to her lips and pointedly looked to her right.

Lance closed the door softly behind him. He walked over to the dresser and saw Lily fast asleep in her crib. He smiled and kneeled beside his mother.

“I thought you’d be gone by now,” she admitted in a whisper. “You’re not even dressed yet.”

Lance ran a hand through her long dark locks. They were soft, probably because she’d curled them with the hair straightener before. He admired his mother’s profile for a second. Sometimes when he looked at her, with all the laughter lines marking her face and the crinkles by her eyes, the worry lines on her forehead and brow, he doubted he’d ever find anyone more beautiful than his mother.

“I’m meeting Hunk and Shay in a while,” he whispered back. “But I wanted to ask if you could do something for me first.”

She pinched his cheek affectionately. “If it’s in my power.”

He ran to his parents’s bathroom on his tiptoes, avoiding to make any noise that might wake his baby sister. He rummaged around his father’s product basket until he found what he’d been looking for.

Lance ran to the doorway and showed it to his mother with a sheepish grin.

“Think you can handle this?”

Carmen’s eyes widened. She bit back a laugh, standing from the vanity and putting her make up aside. She patted the chair for her son to sit on.

 

* * *

 

“It’s been over an hour.”

Shay placed a calming hand on Hunk’s shoulder. “He’s just running late again, Hunk. I don’t know why you’re getting so worked up about this. Punctuality isn’t something Lance’s known for.”

“I know, but still.” Hunk groaned. “He’s been acting so weird lately, I’m getting worried about him. And don’t tell me I’m overanalyzing things, Shay, you’ve seen it too.”

“And you’re right,” she admitted. “But you _are_ overanalyzing things right now. Honestly, I’d be more surprised if he had been here early.”

Hunk slumped against the bench. The sun was beginning to set before them, the sky beginning to mix with warm colors like a painting. The lamps at the boardwalk were lighting up one at a time. Soon it would be dark.

Shay fidgeted next to him. “Do you know why he skipped school today, though?”

“He said he wasn’t feeling well.” He shook his head, frowning. “I don’t buy it. I know Lance better than anyone, and he’s hiding things. Things that are hurting him not to talk about. I thought he was just embarrassed or in denial about having a crush on someone, but now I know that can’t be it. He was fine until yesterday.”

“Well, he never skips school.” Shay conceded.

“Exactly,” Hunk narrowed his eyes. “That excuse he gave me today? He used it yesterday, too.”

“Maybe he was sick yesterday—“

“Bullshit. I went by his house, right after school. I thought I’d find him holed up in his room or something, but he wasn't there. Carmen didn’t know, either. She thought he was at swimming practice, and I didn’t correct her in case I screwed something up. I did run into Amanda, though.”

Shay leaned closer to Hunk, eyes filled with concern and curiosity. “What’d she say?”

“Apparently, Lance dropped Emilio off in the morning. He went out with his backpack and everything, but he didn’t go to school. Mandie was running late or something, so she didn’t walk with them that morning. But by the time she made it to her own school, guess who she saw standing at the bus stop.”

“What the heck was he doing there?”

Hunk let out a humourless laugh. “According to his sister, he was headed to San Francisco and asked her to cover for him ‘cause he’d be back by evening.”

Shay stared. “San Francisco?”

“Yep.”

“What would Lance even do in San Francisco? He’s never been there before, he can’t know anyone there.”

“That’s why I’m worried.” Hunk said. “Whatever drove him to go there, or whatever business he had there. Something happened, and he’s been acting weird ever since.”

The sun continued to fall, enveloping their small town with the chill of twilight. Hunk and Shay sat on the wooden bench, sides pressed to one another, her head leaning on his shoulder and eyes set on the horizon, but minds drifting into what their best friend could be going through.

Their view was suddenly obscured by a pair of long, lean legs clad in booty shorts.

“What’s with the long faces, losers!”

They lifted their heads towards the newcomer, relief clear in their faces.

“Lance, there you are—“

Shay’s jaw dropped. Hunk blinked.

“Oh my god, what happened to your hair.”

Lance ran a hand through the short hair on his scalp. It felt weird to feel the breeze on his head, the top of his hair soft and fluffy compared to the shaved sides.

Hunk rubbed his eyes. “Is that an undercut?”

Lance blushed faintly, looking down at his white sneakers in embarrassment. “Does it look _that_ bad?”

“No, not at all!” Shay insisted, jumping off the bench. “It looks great on you, actually. It’s different, but it’s a good different.”

Lance grinned, and his friends felt their worries dissipate for a short while. Lance’s smile did that to people, sometimes.

“Great, I was worried Mamá had actually butchered the look.” Lance chuckled, adjusting the strap of his tank top. “Come on, we’re already late. At this rate, we’ll totally miss the fireworks.”

He turned on his heel and began walking down the boardwalk, following the soft lights and the chatter of his neighbours headed towards the main event. Shay and Hunk lagged behind.

“Not to be that guy—“

“He got a haircut. It’s weird. You were right, something’s up.”

“Do you think it’s because of that secret person?” Hunk asked in a loud whisper.

“I don’t know,” Shay replied softly. “Not everything has to do with romance, you know. He could’ve done it for himself.”

“Shay, come on. This is _Lance_.”

“Okay, maybe it is about that secret person of his. But why an undercut?”

Lance turned to his friends, walking backwards through the crowd. “I can hear you gossiping like old hags, y’know.”

Shay shot him an innocent smile. “We were just talking about how much you look like Sokka right now.”

Lance barked a laugh, one of his sudden hyena-like sounds that rip from his throat when caught off guard. He turned back to walk in the right direction, all the while staring at the setting sun. It was almost completely gone. Twilight would be over in a few seconds.

He absentmindedly rubbed his bare wrist. It felt weird not to have his bracelet with him.

_Don’t think about him._

The sky darkened, and then came the light.

“Is that the comet?” Shay wondered out loud. The three of them moved to lean against the railing of the boardwalk, watching the show of dancing lights displayed on the night sky.

Hunk grinned. “It looks pretty cool.”

Passing through like a shooting star in slow motion, a celestial body gliding through their atmosphere with a shock of white.

Lance was captivated.

The comet continued its descent. He could hear the awed gasps of the children around him, the marvel of his friends at such a beautiful natural phenomenon.

“Is the comet splitting?”

Lance opened his mouth, but he couldn’t find his voice. Suddenly, the comet wasn’t a shooting star anymore. There were two of them, and the smaller one was not a ball of white light anymore. It had a certain red tint to it, and it was moving faster than the original body, almost as if it had a race to win.

It started disintegrating by the sides. Small rocks fell faster into the atmosphere. The second comet was causing more than a light show, bringing a meteor shower for everyone to see. Mesmerizing and unknown. Unexpected.

The comet kept falling.

 

Faster.

 

Faster.

 

Lance’s brows furrowed. It shouldn’t look bigger if it was disintegrating.

 

Faster.

 

Bigger

 

Closer.

 

Bigger.

 

Faster.

 

Closer.

 

_Closer._

 

Lance’s eyes widened.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Keith pressed the ‘CALL’ button.

He heard it ring once, twice.

_“We’re sorry. You have reached a number that is disconnected or is no longer in service. If you feel you have reached this recording in error, please check the number and try your call again.”_

His fingers punched the digits on the screen. 

_“We’re sorry. You have reached a number that is disconnected or is no—“_

Keith hung up. There was no use trying to call Lance tonight.

He looked up at the dark sky. All he saw were bright stars on a dark canvas, and no sign of a comet. Maybe Lance got it wrong.

Keith shoved his gloved hands into his jacket pockets and marched towards his bike. He climbed on top of Scarlet and started the engine, hearing its loud purr amidst the hustle of the city life. He thought of blue eyes and a lopsided smile.

He sped off the driveway with a sharp smile. He’d tell Lance all about his disastrous date next time he saw him.

 

Except he wouldn’t.

 

Keith and Lance never switched places again after that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the next chapter won't come as quickly as this one. i needed to get this part out of my system to move on, but hopefully i'll have the rest up soon enough. don't forget to comment below what you thought about this chapter! i love reading what you guys think!
> 
> also, i made a playlist with songs in spanish that i personally believe lance would totally jam to. if you're interested in hearing what most of the youths™ in latin america listen to nowadays, go ahead and check it out [right here](https://8tracks.com/czenk/traeme-el-alcohol)


	8. the problem with hitchhiking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith travels the California coastline looking for Lance. That was his first mistake.

Keith began marking the days on the calendar.

For every day that went by without him seeing Lance, he’d paint a bright _x_ on the date with his board marker, almost obsessively. He’d hoped things would go back to normal after a week, that he could paint the squares blue instead of red.

He started slipping after hitting the month mark.

“You’re not okay,” Pidge would point out during recess. She’d stopped showing him her ideas for building new robots, stopped rambling about the A.I models she was eager to develop in college. Now she would sit with him in silence, watching him staring at the Gate in a lost haze, food untouched until the bell rang, when he’d take a bite of whatever Shiro had packed for him and throw away the rest.

He wouldn’t tell her the truth, but he wouldn’t lie either.

“I just haven’t been sleeping well.”

Restless, tossing and turning in a bed too warm for him. Staring at the numbers on the clock, watching the night slowly turn into early morning. Closing his eyes and hearing _his voice_ calling for him, whispering his name in his ear.

But life went on.

He graduated with Pidge, he worked with Allura, he ate dinner with Shiro. He rode his bike from twilight until nightfall, declined party invitations from classmates he’d never been close to, ignored the college brochures and acceptance letters on his desk.

Instead, Keith wiped the dust off his box of charcoal pencils.

He’d always liked the feeling of charcoal sliding against the textured pages of a sketchbook. It wasn’t the easiest thing to sketch with, but it was good for quick works and shading. It was messy, and kept his mind occupied on not ruining the drawings.

He filled pages of pages with Lance’s hometown. The boardwalk with its close-knit shops on full display, the high school grounds looking out at the Pacific ocean, the small bridge connecting their town with the bigger one ten miles away. The McClain household, with its stone steps leading down towards the crossroad and looking over a cliff. He sketched the cave, with its opening on the roof and water dripping into a pond.

Lance’s features were too fine, too delicate to waste away on charcoal. He chose graphite instead, and spent hours trying to translate his memory into paper sheets.

Keith had been working on a rough sketch of the lighthouse near the north pier when Shiro barged into his room.

“Dinner’s ready,” his brother announced, taking a peek inside.

Keith glided the pencil back and forth, hands smeared with black powder. “Sure, coming.”

When he didn’t make any attempt to move, Shiro stepped into the room. On the wall before his desk hanged about a dozen of charcoal sketches.

“I haven’t seen you drawing since– you know.” Shiro grimaced at his own words.

Keith ignored him, the tensing of his shoulders the only sign he’d heard his brother talk. He added more shadows to the base of the lighthouse.

Shiro looked carefully at each piece. Some of them looked very realistic, and others were a turbulence of darkness and mist. Keith must’ve used pictures for reference. The landscapes he drew were not of a place Shiro had ever been to, and they definitely did not belong in Texas.

He paused by a drawing near the bottom, almost completely overlapped by the picture of a boat set deep into the wet sand.

“Who is this?”

Keith’s moved his head so fast he thought he’d gotten whiplash. He looked at the drawing on Shiro’s hand, mortified, and snatched it in a second.

“No one.”

Shiro pressed. “Is that the guy you had a crush on?”

“Get out of my room,” Keith snarled, feeling his hands begin to shake.

“Keith, I don’t know what happened between you two, but you need to talk to someone about this.” Shiro stressed. “You’re retreating into yourself, pushing people away. This isn’t good for you—“

Keith shot up from his chair, his hands trembling and aching to punch, stab, wreck. There was so much energy trapped inside him, he just wanted to scream.

“Takashi, get out of my room.” Keith repeated darkly.

This time, his brother listened. Shiro sighed, looking at Keith with the upmost concerned, and shut the door behind him.

Keith let out a long breath.

He carefully chanced a look at the page Shiro had found. Lance’s smirking face looked back at him. It was just a bust, the sketch stopping past those sharp collarbones.

His smile wasn't quite right, the pull of his lips didn’t look the same. His eyes weren’t as pretty as in real life. His hair didn’t look as soft.

Keith crumpled the page in his fist and walked up to his bed, shoving it under his mattress to join the pile of his imperfect impressions of Lance McClain.

 

* * *

 

Weeks into the madness that was Keith’s current life, he caved in and went on Google.

 

**SHOWING RESULTS FOR _LANCE MCCLAIN_**

 

He found pictures of people named Lance, people named McClain. None of them were right, though. There was nothing about him online, except for a private Facebook profile Keith had sent a friendship request to months ago.  
He still hadn’t been accepted.

Lance’s privacy settings didn’t allow Keith to see the name of where he lived, which pretty much summed up Keith’s most recent nerve-wrecking issue.

He couldn’t remember the name of their town.

He used to know Lance’s home address by heart, used to know the name of every street in that place. Now he couldn't even remember what the city was called. He was going insane.

Now Keith Kogane was known for being impulsive, but in hindsight, this was his most planned-out act of impulsiveness so far. When the boy set his mind to it, he wouldn’t stop until he reached his goal. Keith took every single sketch he’d ever done of the town’s landscape and placed them inside a folder. He filled a backpack with protein bars and water bottles. He picked out a map from the dollar store and emptied his piggybank.

On a hot, summer day, Keith found himself standing at the Greyhound Bus Station, one-way ticket safely tucked in the front pocket of his jeans.

He stared at the clock on the wall, the minutes ticking by slowly. He still had half an hour to wait before his bus took off.

“So, what’s in our first stop?”

Keith jumped, a pitiful sound escaping his mouth before he clamped it shut. He turned around and almost collided with Allura’s smug face and loop earrings.

“What the hell are you doing here.”

Allura smiled sweetly— too sweetly, if you asked him. “Keith, that is no way to address your boss. After all, we just wanted to make sure you had some company during this, uh, spontaneous journey of yours.”

His eyes narrowed. “We?”

He chanced a look behind her and found the bane of his existence, the real traitor in this mess. Shiro jogged up to meet them, two pouches of Capri Sun held in his flesh hand. Allura graciously took one, thanking his brother with a more sincere smile than she had shown Keith.

“Takashi, what is the meaning of this?”

“I figured you’d be less likely to die if someone came with you.” Shiro shrugged.

“Right,” he shook his head. “And how did you find out where I was?”

“I have mad detective skills.” Shiro stabbed the pouch with the straw and sipped his Capri Sun with a blank face.

“Pidge ratted me out.” Keith deadpanned.

“Oh, she would never.”

Keith fished out his cellphone and dialled his best friend’s number. “She would sell me to Satan for a corn chip— _Katherine_ , you lying piece of—“

_“Do not call me that if you want to access your bank account ever again.”_

Keith huffed. “I thought I told you to cover for me, not to tell Shiro and Allura to come babysit me!”

 _“And that’s where you’re wrong.”_ Pidge fired back. _“I totally intended to cover for you at work and at home, so I told Matt, who told Shiro, who told Allura. Things got out of hand after that. Collateral damage, or whatever.”_

And so, Keith found himself travelling across the Californian coastline, followed by his adoptive brother and his boss, who he went on an unwanted, unprecedented awkward date with. The bus ride was fairly comfortable, with seats softer than he expected and decent leg-space. Keith spent the first hour going through a large bag of salted peanuts, the fabric hanging from his window as a makeshift curtain pulled back so he could pay attention to the scenery, heart speeding up once they reached the highway looking over the sea and boats appeared tied to the docks. But as quick as the excitement came, it vanished, because none of the towns they passed through looked right. They didn’t look like the place he’d grown so fond of, the place he’d learned to call a second home.

It would’ve been a peaceful ride, if it hadn’t been for the unwanted company.

“How are we supposed to know where to stop if you don’t know the name of the town?”  
Keith glanced at Allura from the corner of his eye. She was twisted in her seat, facing Keith over the headrest, using her folded arms as a cushion. There was an old woman asleep on the seat beside hers, but she paid no mind and chose to turn around and speak with them for the rest of the ride instead. Shiro sat beside him, a fantasy novel on his lap and _another_ pouch of Capri Sun in hand. He’d even brought a neck pillow.

“I know what the town looks like,” Keith said through a mouthful of peanuts. He pulled his sketchbook from his backpack and showed it to Allura. “I was planning on asking around, see if anyone recognizes it.”

Allura scanned through the pages. “These are really good, Keith. Very realistic.”

“That’s what you’ve been working on for the past weeks?” Shiro asked.

Keith chose to stare at the window.

“Why, exactly, do you want to find this place? You don’t know where it is, you don’t know the name, but you seem to know the place itself. What’s so especial about it?”

“His boyfriend lives there,” Shiro chipped in.

Keith bristled. “He’s not my boyfriend!”

“His online friend, then.”

“Oh, so you haven’t met him in real life?” Allura leaned further into Keith’s space, eyes shining with interest. “How did you meet him, then?”

“That’s none of your business.” Keith grumbled, feeling his face grow hotter by the second.

“I have my suspicions,” Shiro didn’t look up from his book. “Tinder was my first choice, but knowing Keith, he probably got himself into Grindr without knowing how it worked and got lucky.”

Keith sputtered beside him. Whoever said Shiro was selfless and kind had obviously never seen the real him. Mark this as a new bulletpoint in Keith’s list of times Takashi Shirogane has unfairly thrown his brother under the bus.

“That’s a quite a love story.”

Keith banged his head against the glass and begged sleep would take him until they reached their first stop.

The bus passed through Half Moon Bay, making a welcome bathroom stop at Santa Cruz and dropping them off in Carmel. Keith walked through the main street, entering shops and showing the clerks his drawings in hope of some direction.

“Those mountains right there,” the bearded man from the bakery pointed at Keith’s drawing of the cave and its surrounding beach. “They look like they belong in this county. Reminds me of the Big Sur, but there ain’t no town like you described over there.”

A young woman appeared from the back of the store, carrying a tray of fresh scones. She smiled at Keith and observed another sketch with narrowed eyes. “I say you head over to Cambria. It’s more likely you’ll find a fishing port like this one down there, and it’s not too far from Big Sur.”

Allura and Shiro took their time sightseeing, waiting outside the shops while Allura took dozens of selfies from above the beach. Shiro took his own pictures, admiring the wild coastline of the town and the astounding view of the ocean.

Connection after connection, bus stop after bus stop, question after question, sketch after sketch, and the regular checking of road maps. The hours dragged on as they rode through Big Sur and past Lucia, Allura documenting their journey with her iPhone and gasping every now and then at the view from atop the mountains. Keith had to admit it was breathtaking, to see the water so clean and sparkling, with vibrant colors and white sand surrounded by pine trees and grass.

They reached Cambria in the late afternoon, with rumbling bellies and sore backs. Keith got on to business and approached the nearest store in the main street, Allura and his brother trailing behind while she sprouted fact after fact about some Hearst Castle that was supposed to be really famous around there. Shiro listened intently, occasionally commenting himself or pointing out something in the scenery. Keith ignored them.

An old man dismissed Keith’s drawings after taking one quick look. “That shore is not from around here, son. You’ll have better luck by Morro Bay than in Cambria.”

He walked, entered stores, sighed in disappointment, and got back on the street. Shiro had taken to snapping pictures of Allura leaning on the rustic houses or atop the railings of the boardwalk.

(“Haven’t been there, but it sure looks pretty.”

“Are you sure that’s not Malibu?”

“Maybe drive further south. It might be Mexico.”

“That looks like Carmel, doesn’t it, Sara?”)

Keith found himself seconds away from ripping off chunks of his own hair in desperation. No one seemed to recognize the town, no one knew where it was, and Keith couldn’t for the life of him remember the name.

“What’s the plan now, little bro?”

Whatever he’d been planning on answering was cut off by his own stomach roaring in discontent. Keith didn’t get a chance to open his mouth.

Allura hid her giggles behind her hand, somehow making the sound far more regal than it should be. “I suppose it’s time for lunch. Any suggestions?”

They ended up sitting in a diner by the highway. It was one of those places that seemed to be open the twenty-four hours of the day and still house a series of mysterious disappearances in its black and white checkered tiles, but the food was cheap. And delicious, if the way they devoured their respective dishes was anything to go by. Keith shoved piece after piece of bacon into his mouth.

“I don’t understand, Keith.” Allura started, fork sliding swiftly through her waffles. “Is there really no way you could contact your friend? We’ve got no actual clue where his town might be. We need the directions, otherwise we could go as far as San Diego and end up with nothing.”

Keith flipped through the pages of his sketchbook. What had started out as sheer determination had slowly been sucking the spirit out of him and leaving him dry. He doubted they’d make any progress at this point.

“If I could talk to him, we wouldn’t be here right now.”

The waitress that had brought their food walked over to their table, this time with a pot of coffee in hand. She smiles pleasantly at the group.  
“Would any of you like a refill?”

Shiro immediately took her up on her offer, Allura downing what was left of her own cup before handing it over. Keith continued to stare at his sketchbook.

“Oh, is that Bahía Azul?”  
  
Keith perked up at the name. Bahía Azul. Yes, of course! How could he have forgotten the name? _Blue_ _Bay_ , because of course Lance’s town would be blue, just like him.

“Honey, come see this.” The woman called for her husband, who exited the kitchen, wiping his hands on his apron. “This is the Bahía, right? Your hometown?”

“Damn right, it is.” The man whistled at the page appreciatively. “And that’s a mighty good picture you got there. Brings back old memories.”

Keith jumped from his seat. “Is it far from here? Do you know what bus we can take to get there?”

The man stared at him with wide eyes, unable to form a response. He shared a look with his wife, then turn to Keith, shoulders slumped. Keith didn’t like the way he was looking at him now.

“There isn’t a single bus that will take you, kid.” He said. “No one goes to Bahía Azul anymore.”

Keith felt the fire in him tamper. What did that mean? Was there really no way to get there? He tilted his head in confusion.

“Bahía Azul…” Shiro whispered, slowly, testing the words.

He heard Allura gasp.

“Wait, you don’t think—“

 

* * *

 

Keith was out the door the moment the car pulled over. The cook from the dinner killed the engine. He could hear Shiro yelling at him to slow down, but he couldn’t. It couldn’t be real.

He crossed the highway in a sprint, jumping the small fence that ran along the middle school grounds’s perimeter, running until he reached the very end of the mountain edge, where a yellow caution tape prevented him from falling down. He blinked once, twice, his eyes moving frantically over what stood before him.

The sea was there, like it always was, with its bright blue waters and strong waves hitting the rocks at the bottom of the mountain, right where the old lighthouse stood. But instead of water meeting sand anywhere else, the boats tied to the shore and the boardwalk illuminated by the setting sun, Keith found a giant ditch of water.

It was as if the ocean had opened into a lake, engulfing what had once been a charming coastal town with the stillness of water. There was no boardwalk, no boats, no dock, no shops, no town hall, no houses. Chaos, destruction under water. He could see the remnants of rooftops, of old cars and the wood of the boardwalk. He could see stop signs on the edge of the lake, stuck in between the rocks. Everything that stood below the hill had been wiped out.

“Keith, come on.” Shiro urged him. “This can’t be the place you were talking about. This was a mistake.”

“I know this place.” Keith shook his head. “I was here a month ago. This isn’t— this isn’t real. But it’s here, it’s not a mistake, Takashi.”

“That’s impossible, Keith.” Shiro sighed, taking a step forward and placing a reassuring hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Bahía Azul was destroyed three years ago, during the meteor shower.”

Keith felt the color drain from his face.

He didn’t feel like he was in his own body anymore.

_Three years ago._

_When his parents died._

Shiro’s voice sounded so far away. The waves crashing against the rocks were stronger.

_Three years ago._

_Was Lance dead—_

“No, no, no, no, no.” Keith pulled out his cellphone from his front pocket. “That can’t be true. I talked to him, Takashi. I talked to him a month ago, he _can’t_ —“

His breath caught in his throat.

As soon as he opened the Notes app, every single entry that had been on his phone disappeared. One by one, the letters changed maniacally and the entry disappeared.

 

**YOU HAVE (0) NOTES**

 

His fingers moved shakily on the screen. He opened the voice notes they had sent each other so many times before.

The time stamps changed, and the note was gone. Just like that, erased.

 

**YOU HAVE (0) RECORDINGS**

 

“What the fuck. _What the fuck._ ”

“Keith, please calm down.”

“Takashi, what the fuck is this shit. Is Lance— he can’t, is he?” Shiro turned Keith around and wrapped his arms around him, tucking his chin on top of his head. Keith’s hands continued to shake violently. “What the fuck, Shiro, I don’t understand.”

Their town was gone. Erased from the map.

Every single memory, every single evidence of Lance’s existence, disappeared.

 

_Lance was gone._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this took a long time to update, and it's not even that long of a chapter. for that, i apologize. sometimes you hit a wall when writing and need to get over it before moving onto the parts you want to write. it makes me happy seeing your reactions to this fic tho guys, please don't stop commenting! it's great seeing how people react depending on whether they watched kimi no na wa or not. whatever the case, the angst is yet to come.
> 
> also, now we have art!! i won an art giveaway (probably the most exciting thing to happen to me in the past month) and am so happy with the piece i received. thank you to the amazing [@salamandraimoral](http://www.salamandraimoral.tumblr.com) for drawing [lance and keith listening to each other on the phones in ch. 5](http://salamandraimoral.tumblr.com/post/161978064087/commission-for-angejolras-who-won-the-giveaway-a)
> 
> (the art has been added to ch5, go check it out there too if you want!)


	9. the problem with your ghost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith is faced with the truth, hangs by a rope, and runs away in the middle of the night. Not necessarily in that order.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first of all, i must say that _i can't believe_ the response iys has gotten! seriously guys, you're all amazing. this story has gotten over 2k new hits after the last chapter, and now we're at 7k?? i'm floored with all of your sweet comments, and i'm seriously sorry for all the angst. it'll be over soon, i promise.
> 
> if you really want to get a feel for this chapter, i recommend listening to [the night we met](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aQh9eDcS1-0) by lord huron and [helium](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nLnpvbBSjUY) by sia. i've been listening to those songs non-stop while writing and felt my heart _clench_.
> 
> warning: i've lived through a natural disaster before, so i know how traumatic and upsetting it can be to read about destruction. if you are sensitive to it, skip the last paragraph of the "article" on this chapter. you won't miss out on much, promise.
> 
> EDIT: due to recent comments, i have added **Major Character Death** to the fic warnings and the tag **Temporary Character Death**. i did not want to add them before because of spoilers, just like you get no warning in the original movie, but it has been brought to my attention that it should be noted for fans who do not wish to read something like this, even if only temporary. i am unsure whether to keep the warning until the end, but the tag will remain.

_**Blue Bay Disaster: Minute of silence is held as the death toll rises over 800** _

by Renée Figueroa | The Mercury News

  
The number of people presumed dead after the tragedy in Bahía Azul has risen to 836, the authorities of Monterey County announced yesterday during a press conference. In an act of solidarity, a minute of silence was held in Salinas to honour the victims and their families.

Around 7:58 pm (PST), the coastal town of Bahía Azul was hit by a fragment of Comet Tiamat. The Tiamat has an orbital period of 1200 years, and its return to Earth had been an event that many of the citizens of Bahía Azul had looked forward to. Witnesses all over the West Coast have reported watching the Tiamat passing by before it suddenly split in two, the smallest fragment straying from its course. “It was a light show, an unexpected meteor shower,” described a survivor.

What no one predicted was for the remaining piece to not disintegrate. According to a NASA representative, the destruction that fell upon Bahía Azul “could not have been prevented”. Researches and scientists have not yet reached a conclusion on how the asteroid could have survived the atmosphere of our planet, much less hit such a populated area.

At the time of the crash, most of the inhabitants had been celebrating their town’s foundation in a traditional festival held from the boardwalk to the town hall. The impact of the comet destroyed the pier and left a massive hole in its wake, causing a tsunami-like entrance for the ocean that swallowed the remnants of the town. Houses that had not been destroyed by the blast were pulled into the sea afterwards. As of now, it is presumed that three-fourths of Bahía Azul’s population have perished in this tragedy.

 

 

Keith stopped reading after that.

He rubbed his eyes. They were probably red by now, exhausted from skimming over what felt like a dozen newspapers. There were essays, entire books written about what they called “The Blue Bay Disaster”. He couldn’t count the amount of times he’d read that sentence by now. One of the rarest things to happen in modern America, as far as natural disasters go. There hadn’t been records of actual meteors crashing and destroying since theories about the disappearance of dinosaurs. And yet it had happened. What had once been a coastal paradise had turned into a gulf, a lake, a crash site. Almost the entire town had been wiped out.

Part of him couldn’t believe it.

They’d been at the Cambria Public Library for hours, digging through records and tabloids from three years ago. Allura had taken to checking about the event online, while Shiro had found a series of research papers on the comet and the crash. But Keith didn’t feel like reading an analysis. He wanted facts. He wanted to understand what the fuck was going on.

“Couldn’t he have lied about where he lived?” Shiro had asked him at one point in the night, shoulders slumped and just as exhausted as his brother.

Keith wished it was that simple.

If he had been an outsider to his story, he would’ve agreed with Shiro and case closed. They’d go back home, he’d forget about Lance and move on with his life.

But he couldn’t, because he hadn’t just _talked_ to Lance. Keith had _been_ Lance, many times, and had exchanged more messages with him that he could count. He’d stared at his face for mornings on end, learned his skincare routine, admired his body and his smile and his eyes. He’d fallen in love with his family, become an older brother and found a new mother. He’d hung out with Shay, confided in Hunk, even chatted with kids like Rolo Martínez.

There was no going back from that. They had been real, they had been alive. Keith had known them.

“I’m going insane,” Keith whispered.

“Who gave you that?”

Keith jerked his head to look at his brother. Shiro was pointing at the dark blue bracelet on Keith’s wrist, the one he’d been fiddling with for the past hour. He gently traced the flyaway threads that tied the ends together, frowning in thought.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Actually, I can’t remember. But I’ve had it for years now. It’s been my lucky charm, I guess.”

"Funny. I never noticed you wore that."

He’d been in the middle of inspecting the familiar braided bracelet, wondering where he might’ve gotten it, when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

“Keith,” Allura said. “I found something that I think you should see.”

She lead him to the only functioning computer, sitting down and angling the screen so that Keith could see it better.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a search engine with the complete list of casualties.”

He felt like his stomach was gonna lurch.

Allura rested a hand on his arm, eyes gentle. “It’s okay if you don’t want to use it. I just thought you should know a thing like this existed.”

“Search for Shay Balmera.”

He was surprised to hear his own voice. Not a tremor, no cracks. It was just flat.

Allura blinked, unsure how to respond. She chanced a look behind Keith, at his brother. Shiro responded with a nod and she turned back to the screen.

“How do you spell that?”

“B-A-L-M-E-R-A.”

Her fingers moved quickly across the keyboard and the screen changed.

“Balmera, Shay Lin.” Allura read out loud. “Aged seventeen.”

 

(Shay cracked open a canned soda and handed it over to Keith. “Big brothers are just weirdly overprotective. It’s unsettling.”

“Tell me ‘bout it,” Keith chuckled.

She took a sip of her own drink. “It feels like Rax tries to control me more than our own parents lately. Like, he’s so intent on not letting me leave this town.”

“Well, that’s not his decision to make,” Keith reminded her. “Where would ya want to go, if you got outta this town?”

Shay smiled at him, eyes bright and shiny.

“Anywhere, everywhere. I want to travel the world.”)

 

Keith shook his head, feeling a sting in his eyes. _Don’t think about them_. He took a deep breath to collect himself before speaking again.

“Hunk Garrett. G-A-R-R-E-T-T.”

Allura glanced at him from the corner of her eye, brows furrowed, but typed away.

“Garrett, Hunk Rangi. Aged nineteen.”

Shiro stepped closer to his brother, concerned. “Is that him?”

Keith shook his head, the sting feeling sharper than before.

 

(“Quick, hand me a plate.” Hunk ordered, slowly lifting a piece of the cheesecake with a cake slicer.

Keith snatched the nearest clean plate he could find. Hunk lowered the slice shakily, as if expecting everything to go wrong the moment the cake touched the surface. Once set, he let out a sigh of relief and Keith laughed. His friend grabbed a spoonful and shoved it into Keith’s mouth, then took one for himself.

It was the perfect balance between sweet and savoury. Keith almost moaned at the taste.

“Hunk, this is incredible.”

“I know!” He nodded excitedly. “I wasn’t sure how the crust would turn out, but it feels perfect, I can’t complain. The passion fruit, though. Oh, that is the real kicker here.”

Keith leaned against the counter, pushing another bite into his mouth. He smiled. Hunk looked so proud of himself.

“For real, though. Have you never thought of opening a bakery?”

“Oh, I’ve thought about it.” Hunk waved his hand around. “But it wouldn’t be right. I’ve told you before that machines are my thing, and that’s not going to change. I like working at the repair shop with my Mama, and even if I didn’t stay here, I’d keep working as an engineer.”

He began cutting a new slice, eyes narrowed as he lowered the knife with precision. All the while, he kept talking to Keith.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love cooking. But it’s my stress relief. It’s more of a hobby, something I love. I don’t wanna mix it up with work and end up hating it.”

Keith could relate. As much as he had loved building his motorbike, bringing Scarlet to life piece by piece with his bare hands, he had to admit he wouldn’t do it for a living. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

Hunk pulled Keith into a crushing hug, allowing him to feel the rumbling of Hunk’s content laughter. “Oh, don’t worry, buddy. I’m still gonna bake your wedding cake.”

He found himself laughing as well. “I’m holding you to that, big guy.”)

 

Keith felt his body beginning to shake, hands curled into fists. Shiro wrapped his flesh arm around his brother’s shoulders, squeezing lightly in hopes he’d calm down. Keith breathed in harshly. He wanted to get the word out of his mouth fast.

“Search McClain.”

Allura did look at him in the eye this time. “Only the last name?”

He nodded, not trusting his voice. It was too much. This was too much.

“There’s someone named Felipe McClain here, but they were fifty-two years old.”

“That’s his dad,” Keith muttered. He vaguely remembered his meeting with Lance’s father. He hadn’t been around much the past few months. “Is there— is there anyone else on that list?”

Allura scrolled through a page. “Yes, but the rest are under McClain-Villamar, not just McClain.”

“Read them out loud. Please.”

Allura took a deep breath. Keith closed his eyes.

“McClain-Villamar, Andrea Liliana.” She paused, stumbling over her next words. “T-two years old.”

 

(“Mom, she doesn’t want to eat.” Keith complained. Baby Lily had been avoiding every spoon Keith had sent her way.

“Tesoro, I’m too busy to deal with her right now.” Carmen called from the laundry room.

Keith sighed, staring at a pair of wide brown eyes. No one else was in the house that morning, and he had been lucky enough to be assigned to feeding Lance’s baby sister. A baby who, for all intents and purposes, did not want to eat.

“Come on, Lily,” he almost begged. “Work with me here.”

Baby Lily blinked.

Keith huffed and let his eyes roll back into his head. And then he heard it. A strange, bubbly sound that made him snap back to reality.

Lily was laughing.

Without a second thought, he grabbed the spoon and shoved it inside her gaping mouth. She swallowed the contents and laughed again. Keith repeated the action.

By the time her plate was empty, they were both laughing.)

 

Shiro tightened his grip on Keith’s shoulders, bringing him back. Allura went on.

“McClain-Villamar, Amanda María. Thirteen.”

 

(Amanda kicked the bathroom door open, startling Keith in the middle of applying Lance’s Wednesday Chocolate Mud Mask.

“I’ve been waiting for far too long.” She complained, pushing Keith against the sink as she stormed past. She stopped before the toilet seat and promptly dropped her shorts. “Fuck it.”

Keith continued to apply the clay-like substance, a bit appalled at the texture. Why did Lance need him to do this again? “That’s disgusting. Hold your bladder next time.”

“I’ll pee on your bed, that’s what I’ll do next time.” Amanda rolled her eyes. “It’s annoying how obsessed you are with your own face.”

Keith chuckled. “Well, it is a beautiful face.”

“You are so full of— mierda.”

“Could’ve said the whole thing in English.”

“No, that’s not—“ Amanda cut off in a loud groan, dropping her head into her hands. “I hate everything.”

Keith tore his eyes away from Lance’s reflection. “What happened?”

In a surprisingly fast change of demeanour, she stared at him with wide puppy eyes. They weren’t as good as Lance’s, but they were certainly McClain material.  
“I need you to get me my pads. They’re in my room, second drawer.”

Keith stared at her blankly.

“If you don’t go now, I’ll bleed over your feet.”

He’d never run so fast before in his life.)

 

“McClain-Villamar, Carmen Johanna. Forty-seven.”

Keith felt a sob tear from his throat. His hand immediately flew to his mouth, hoping to stop any other sounds. Shiro pulled him closer to his chest, still confused but more concerned about his brother to even question anything.

Keith knew that would be one of the hardest names to hear.

His mind couldn’t focus on a single memory of Carmen. There were too many moments, too many experiences. In the months Keith had spent switching places with Lance, Carmen McClain become the one person Keith respected the most. She was a fighter, a mother who raised six children, who became their confidant, their best friend and their source of wisdom. An excellent cook, a skilled knitter, a determined woman.

Keith had never known his own mother. He couldn’t remember anything about her, and didn’t have a mother figure until the Shiroganes took him in. He’d loved Shiro’s parents. They had been great people, with big hears and open minds and always eager to make Keith happier day by day. He missed them dearly. When they passed, Keith felt a part of him shatter.

Knowing that Carmen was gone felt like a stab in the chest. Knowing that she died on the same day as his parents only made it worse.

If Keith could have chosen a mother for himself, a woman to have taken care of him since little, he would’ve picked Carmen. She had listened to him talk, soothed his worries and encouraged him to push forward. It was no surprise Lance loved his mother so much. She deserved the world.

If there was anything that Keith would remember about her, it would be her eyes. Bright blue, just like her son’s, but with the markings of age framing them. Expressive, inquisitive, fond. Carmen’s eyes held the warmth and love only a mother could transmit.

“Go on,” he urged Allura. He need to reach the end. He need to hear it, to know it was real.

“Are you sure, Keith? There’s only two names left and you look pretty shaken—“

_“Just read it.”_

She cleared her throat. “Alright, then. McClain-Villamar, Emilio José. Eight years old.”

 

(They’d been walking home one afternoon when Keith noticed that Emilio wasn’t being his usual upbeat self.

“Something wrong, kiddo?”

Emilio kept his eyes downcast. “Why am I so small?”

Keith blinked. “What do you mean, buddy?”

“I want to be big.” Emilio’s tiny hands balled into fists. “I want to be tall, like you, hermano!”

He fought back a smile, knowing that it would only make Emilio sadder if he thought Keith was mocking him in some way.

“You still have many years to grow.” Keith stopped, kneeling down to Emilio’s level. He’d had talks like these before, back when he was passed around from foster home to orphanage, and a younger kid was feeling sad or just needed comfort. “Your big brother wasn’t always this tall. He was just as small as you were once. You just need to be a little more patient.”

“B-but what if I don’t grow that much?” Emilio asked, eyes wide. “I don’t want to be a shorty forever!”

This time Keith did let out a small huff of laughter. “There’s nothing wrong with being shorter than other boys, Emilio. What you lack in height, you can make up in strength if you want.”

“Then I could fight the bad guys!”

Keith did not know what bad guys Lance’s brother was talking about, but he nodded anyway. “Then you will fight the bad guys.” He bumped Emilio’s nose with his index finger. “And you will win.”

Emilio let out a bubbly laugh, the kind that comes from the belly. His eyes, no longer preoccupied, shone blue, just like his brother and his mother. He suddenly stretched his arms and began trying to climb Keith.

“What are you doing now?”

Emilio jumped onto his back and Keith rearranged their position so that Emilio sat atop his shoulders. With a bright grin, the eight-year-old answered.

“It’s okay if I’m not tall when I’m a grown up, but I want to be tall today.”)

 

Before Allura could read out the last one, Keith pushed her rolling chair aside, crouching before the screen. He needed to see for himself. He need to know. He could hear his brother talking but his words fell on deaf ears. The world went silent when he read his name.

  
**McClain-Villamar, Lance Alejandro (18)**

  
He stared blankly, eyes clouded. He wouldn’t cry. Not now, not yet. He wouldn’t, because it still didn’t make sense. How could someone so bright be turned off? How could someone that made you want to live have died? Someone with a warmth that could rival the summer heat. Someone whose light was stronger than the sun. How would a morning look without his brightness? Surely the skies wouldn’t be as blue, the ocean wouldn’t be as clear.

Keith thought of Lance’s smile. The cheeky grin he’d throw at a camera ever since he learned how to smile, present in every family picture and framed on the walls. The smug smirk he’d throw on his selfies, the one he’d take for Keith to see the next morning, the kind of smirk that begged to be wiped off but made you want to drop your panties or pop a boner. The soft smile he wore around his mother, around his siblings and his best friend and his cat, the one Keith had seen on those rare occasions Lance had chosen to film himself instead of just taking a picture. Keith wished he had been able to interact with Lance in person, instead of seeing it all through a screen because he couldn’t stare at the mirror for an entire day, no matter how tempting it sounded.

He thought of bright blue eyes, that shone even through exhaustion, that held the weight of his family and danced with happiness at the same time. Eyes that made him think of summers he wished he’d had, summers he wanted to have. Summers he had hoped he would have.

Losing the McClains felt like losing his family all over again. Losing Lance felt like losing himself, like his future had slipped right through his fingers.

He felt his blunt nails digging into the palm of his hands. With a shaky breath, he got back to his feet. He could feel his brother’s eyes digging holes into head, Allura’s own concerned stare burning like a tangible presence.

He kicked the empty chair next to him.

“Keith!” Allura gasped, jumping from her seat.

“Don’t come after me,” he growled before storming out of the library.

Allura made a move to follow, but Shiro held her back. He shook his head. “Don’t. He needs to be alone right now.”

Keith reached the staircase outside the building, hands still pressed tightly in fists. He stopped by the last step, legs quivering and vision blurry. He brought his hands to his face, covering his eyes, and plopped down on the steps.

 

* * *

 

Shiro found Allura leaning on a railway just outside the inn, dressed in checkered pyjama pants and a pastel pink tank top. She stood barefoot on the grass, long white hair pulled into a high ponytail, her cheek resting on one hand and a cigarette on the other.

“I didn’t know you smoked.”

She spared him a glance, her smile tired. “I’d quit a long time ago, but I felt like I needed it tonight.”

After the public library had closed, they’d found Keith on the stairwell, head bowed between his legs and arms wrapped tightly around himself. The couple from the dinner who had kindly given them a ride to Bahía Azul and back had advised them to spend the night in Cambria, considering the state of shock Keith had been in. The motel they were currently staying at had also been a recommendation from the couple, and it stood in front of the massive patch of grass that surrounded the beach below. Shiro had to practically drag his brother into their room, Keith far too lost in his own head to pay attention to anything else.

“What is going on, Shiro?” Allura asked in a soft voice, eyes set on the dark horizon.

“I wish I knew,” he said. “Maybe then I wouldn’t feel so useless.”

“Don’t beat yourself up over it. You’re doing a lot for Keith already.”

“It still doesn’t feel like enough. I’ve no idea what I’m doing. My brother’s falling apart right before my eyes and I don’t know how to stop it.”

“Again, you’re doing enough by being there for him. This isn’t a situation anyone could’ve been prepared for.” Allura argued. “It doesn't even feel real.”

“It feels real to Keith.” Shiro whispered, and Allura’s shoulders slumped.

“Back at the library…I could tell he knew them, Shiro. Every single person I read off that list, he knew them all.” She took a longer drag from her cigarette. “How is that possible? Those people — they’ve been dead for years.”

“Before this whole _mess_ happened,” he waved an arm around, the metal one, gesturing to the beach in front of them. “I just thought this guy and Keith had gotten into a fight, or broken up, or _something_. Now I don’t even know if he was real.”

Images of Keith laughing in the middle of the night, obscene drawings on his face and sketches of a beach that didn’t exist anymore. Keith, confused and shaking at the edge of the hill. Keith, crumbling at the bottom of a stairwell.

“Maybe he wasn’t.” The silence broke. Allura shrunk in on herself under Shiro’s questioning gaze. “Please, don’t get mad at me for saying this. I mean it in the most helpful way. It’s a possibility we can’t rule out.”

“But his name _was_ on that record. He was real, Allura.”

“Yes, he was. But maybe Keith’s interactions with him weren’t,” she suggested. “You told me yourself that your parents died three years ago, on the same night that place was destroyed. That’s just a coincidence, but what if Keith’s brain took that fact and created an illusion out of it? He could’ve just as easily found the list of casualties, and his mind would’ve done the rest.”

Shiro shook his head adamantly. “Why would he even do that to himself?”

“To cope with the loss. It’s been three years, Shiro.” Allura let out a long sigh, breath mixing with smoke. “Again, that’s just a possibility. I’m not saying Keith made it up, but we should look out for his mental health, just in case.”

Shiro grimaced, but nodded along. He definitely didn’t like that scenario, but he couldn’t ignore Keith’s strange attitude for the past months. Be it a figment of Keith’s imagination, or some fucked-up reality Keith got himself trapped into, there was no denying that Keith's life  _had_ changed.

“It could’ve also been a ghost.” Allura suggested.

“You believe in those?”

“I don’t deny neither confirm their existence. I can’t not believe in it just because I’ve never seen one, but it would make sense, right? Keith could be a psychic or a medium, or maybe he just has that ability. That boy could’ve been reaching out from the afterlife.”

Shiro scratched the back of his head. “That doesn’t explain how he knew the town, though. He said he’d been there a month ago.”

“What about dreams? If it was a spirit, he could’ve been communicating with him through dreams, visions.”

“He talked to him on the phone though.” Shiro frowned. “They talked a lot, and he seemed happier. He laughed more, he learned how to cook, his grades went up. He was reading books again, and I even found him watching knitting tutorials once.”

“I get what you mean. At the restaurant, he’d become friendlier with the staff. They already treated him like a son, but he’d been more open to people. Some days more than others, but you could tell he’d met someone. The constant checking-up of his phone, smiling at nothing for a few seconds.” Allura paused, letting a small laugh escape her. “I even went on a date with him once.”

Shiro sputtered. “You _what_ ”·

“I know, I know,” she giggled. “I was quite surprised myself when he asked me to a museum, but I’ve always thought Keith was a nice guy. And my uncle, Coran, he was Keith’s teacher and had always spoken highly of him once he found out he was working for me. I didn’t really like Keith that way, mind you, but he’d always get pretty flustered around me and I found that sweet. So I thought, why not, we might end up better friends at the end.”

“I have no idea why he would’ve asked you out.” Shiro barely could contain his own laughter. “Keith is gay.”

Allura jumped away from the railing, dropping her cigarette on the ground. “Keith is _what_?”

“He’s gay, Petra.”

She threw him a dirty look. “Considering what happened today, I thought your brother liked both, but this explains so much more about our date.” Her dark blue eyes suddenly narrow on the horizon. “Actually, if my memory serves me right, that day was kind of a turning point.”

“What do you mean?”

“Keith seemed very out of it.” Allura recalled. “I could tell he was making an effort, but he wasn’t into it. His mind was somewhere else. Someone else, I suppose. But see, the funny thing is, I think he might’ve gone on that date with me to get that someone out of his head. But come Monday, he looked a lot more sullen than before.”

“He checked his phone constantly after that.”

“His work became sloppy.”

“And his mood only got worse over time.”

“Yes!” Allura exclaimed. “Maybe you were right and they _did_ get into a fight.”

“They stopped talking after that, then.” Shiro crossed his arms over his chest. “Now we just need to figure out why.”

Allura hummed. “There’s something missing. We still don’t know enough.” She made a move to light a new cigarette when metal fingers wrapped around her wrist stopped her.

“It’s late. You should go to sleep. We have a big day ahead tomorrow.” Shiro took the stick from her and shoved it into his own pocket.

Allura’s lips pulled into a pout and Shiro almost smiled. It looked adorable. “I want to figure this out, for Keith’s sake.”

“If you’re tired tomorrow, you won’t be of much help.” He reminded her, letting go of her wrist. “Go. But do it for your own sake.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll be there soon. I just need some time to think.”

Allura nodded, patting Shiro’s flesh arm before saying good night and going back inside.

 

* * *

 

_“Keith.”_

Where was that voice coming from?

_“You don’t remember me?”_

Who are you?

_“Who am I? Uh, the name’s —“_

Keith woke up with a gasp. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, trying to adjust to the yellow light of their room again. How long had he been asleep for?

He looked out the window beside him. He couldn’t see the moon anymore. Leaning back on his chair, he ruffled through the books and papers scattered on the table. What had he been looking for? Suddenly, it was hard to remember what he’d been working on.

_“Keith!”_

He turned towards the voice, but there was no one there.

The door to their room opened and Keith almost jumped. It was Allura.

“Oh,” she stared at him, wide-eyed. “I thought you were asleep already.”

“Yeah, um. I’ll do that, soon, yeah.” He ran a hand through his hair. The word _mullet_ resonated through his head, but he didn’t know why.

Allura walked over to her bed, picking up her sleepers from the floor. They’d managed to find a room for the three of them, with a twin-sized bed and a single one. Of course, the single would go to Allura. Keith and Shiro would have to share, just like old times.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” she announced, taking her bag of beauty products with her. “Get some rest, Keith.”

He nodded, watching her close the bathroom door behind her. Once he heard the lock, he went back to the books he’d been checking.

_“The name’s Lance!”_

He jolted. Lance. Of course, it was Lance. Lance McClain.

Had he seriously forgotten Lance’s name?

Keith stared at the open book in front of him. He wasn’t going to forget Lance. There had to something, anything, some clue to solve what was going on. If they were all dead, then why did Keith swap places with Lance? How was that even possible? There had to be something he could do.

He flipped a page and felt himself freeze.

The picture before him. That might be the answer. He’d forgotten about that place, but he remembered how it looked, how it felt, how it smelled. If there was one place in Bahía Azul where he could find an answer, it should be there.

He checked the map he carried inside his tote bag and compared it to the book’s own locations, marking a red circle over the place. He shoved the map back inside and put on his boots, keeping watch over the bathroom door and praying Allura wasn’t done with her night routine. Just in case, he turned off the lamp and made a bundle of pillows under the covers of his bed, on the side facing the window.

Then, he sneaked out.

 

* * *

 

Keith jerked awake when he felt the car come to a stop. This was as far as he could go on a vehicle. He could see the sky beginning to lighten from the driver’s side.

“Thank you for driving me here again.”

The man they’d met on the diner, Antonio, nodded back at him. He wordlessly reached out to grab a water bottle from the backseat and handed it to Keith. With a small smile, he dropped it inside his bag and moved to open the passenger door when a hand on his shoulder stop him.

“Those drawings of yours. They’re really good.” Antonio said solemnly, eyes searching Keith’s face. He pulled back, seemingly satisfied with what he found. “Be careful out there, kid.”

The car sped off back onto the highway and Keith was on his own again, standing at the top of a broken down wooden staircase leading to the beach. He searched his bag for the map and observed the distance he’d have to travel on foot. It wasn’t that far, he’d probably reach the place in half an hour at most. If the old road that bordered the beach hadn’t been destroyed, he could’ve probably gotten there a lot faster.

He turned on his phone’s flashlight to illuminate the steps, climbing down and avoiding the holes and broken down steps, having to jump on the railing sometimes to avoid large woodless sections. Once he reached the sand, he turned it off and headed closer to where the sand was wet and compact, choosing to avoid the patches of grass. You never knew what you could step on when walking over them.

He recalled the first and last time he walked this path. There used to be a forest cutting through the road. Carmen had refused to let them ride their bicycles, making them walk all the way from their house on the hill to the cave and through the sand. He’d wore flip-flops that day, one of his biggest mistakes so far. Walking through sand was a lot more leg work than Keith had been used to.

Before long, with the sun beginning to rise from behind the trees surrounding the coastline, Keith found himself in front of the rock formation he’ been looking for. Although the distance between stones was much wider than before, it was still accessible. He carefully jumped from one to the other, itching closer and closer to the cave’s mouth.

He was met with a stone wall of disappointment.

As soon as Keith reached the entrance, he felt his excitement wither. What had once been a dark entrance to the cave was now covered in fallen rocks, with minimum access for a grown man. Granted, a child could probably fit through, but Keith had no idea how the cave looked past those stones.

“Shit,” he cursed out loud. His eyes scanned the sides of the cave, hoping to find another path inside to no avail. He ran a hand through his tangled locks. This couldn’t be the end. This couldn’t be it.

The cave only went deeper and under. Back then, Keith figured out they were underground because of the opening on the cave’s roof—

_The cave’s roof._

Keith felt like punching himself. Of course, there was another way in! The hole on top of the cave might have been small, but he was certain he could fit through.

He practically raced up the uneven stones, using his hands to climb faster. Once he was back at the same level of the damaged road and the sand, he raised himself up to reach a small patch of forest and rock formations that should overlook the cave from a safe enough distance to jump off.

Keith ran, heart pounding as he leapt around the trees, keeping close to the edge. He found the beginning of the cave pretty quickly, and followed the border until he spotted the opening, right in the middle of a large stone floor. He jumped from the forest, landing into an easy crouch on top of the rock.

The opening was just big enough for him to enter comfortably. However, it was too dark inside the cavern, the dawn just barely breaking through, not enough to illuminate it. He used his phone as a flashlight again, the white bright light shining into the musky cove.

There was a small area of water right beneath him, enough to probably hold off his fall. He examined the rest from above. There weren’t any rocks he could use to climb back up. Keith frowned, placing his bag on the ground. His hand searched its contents until it found what he wanted.

Rope.

When he'd showed up at the couple from the diner's doorstep in the middle of the night, asking for a ride and a survival kit — anything that could help him in a deserted town —, the woman had given him a first aid kit and a piece of thick rope, the kind soldiers used to make knots and nets to climb on. It wasn’t enough for a net, and Keith doubted it was long enough to reach the bottom of the cave, but it’d do.

He tied an end to one one of the rocks on the surface, tugging at the rope and praying the knot wouldn’t give away. Once he deemed it safe, Keith tossed his bag into the cave. He let out a relieved sigh when it hit dry land. Sending another quick prayer to a god he probably didn’t believe it, he threw his phone towards the bag.

It landed right next to it, the flashlight facing upwards, making the cove more visible. His screen probably broke with the fall, but he was grateful for small miracles.

Making sure his sleeveless gloves were secured on his hands, he began climbing down.

 _Easy, easy,_ he thought as he lowered himself inside. There wasn’t much room for visibility, and he couldn’t really tell how close he was to the floor. He breathed in through his nose, let it all out in a pant. He was almost at the end of the rope.

He felt himself slip and looked down, hanging by a hand. He could jump it, it wasn’t that high anymore.

Water splashed his ankles and knees, soaking the bottom of his pants completely. He got out of the pond as quick as he could, dragging the water with him. His combat boots felt uncomfortably damp. Keith grabbed his bag and looked around the cove, phone in hand, until he found what he’d been looking for.

There, on top of a particularly tall rock, lied the knitted quilt.

When Amanda had told the story of their family heirloom, Keith remembered her mentioning asking for the ocean’s protection. Whether it was magic, or science, or fate, Keith felt like the ocean was the only option he had. It was the only one that would listen to him.

Keith knelt next to the quilt, lifting it with shaky fingers. He blew the dust off the piece, remembering that no one had touched it in years. His fingers caressed the different patterns. Amanda’s green criss-cross, Carmen’s beautiful bronze leaves, Emilio’s golden stitches. He remembered Lance saying he had older siblings, and assumed the black and white piece belonged to them. And right in the middle, just like always, Lance’s beautiful turquoise scale-like pattern.

He raised his head to look at the sky above the opening, holding the quilt tightly. What was he supposed to do now?

“Ocean God?” Fuck, he sounded ridiculous. Was this really what he’d come to, in his desperation? Here he was, talking to himself inside an abandoned cave, hoping that the goddamn _ocean_ would hear him. “What am I supposed to do now? How can I bring them back?”

No one answered.

Keith sighed, reaching for the water bottle inside his bag. His fingers brushed something else, something he’d forgotten about.

“What the —“

He pulled out a braided cord, his failed attempt at a bracelet. It was dark red, with a single hot red string woven in between. He’d been meaning to give it to Lance when he found him, but forgotten about it when all he found was a graveyard.

His fingers played with the knitted piece. Lance would’ve loved using it as a fidget toy, if anything. The ends of the bracelet were loose, they weren’t tied correctly. He loosened them more, opening one of the ends so that it had more space to be knitted into.

He looked back at the quilt.

_You’ve got nothing to lose._

He brought the quilt to his lips, ignoring the voice in his head that sounded a lot like Shiro, screaming about bacteria and infections, and tugged at the ends with his teeth.

The blue end began to give out, but it wasn’t enough. Keith reached into his back pocket for his Swiss Army knife, using the large blade to loosen the ends of the middle patch.

_The flow of time is just like knitting. Every person in the world has its own thread, and they mingle and weave together whenever someone becomes a part of our story._

The strands came loose and Keith let himself breathe again.

His knife was more of a dagger, with only a corkscrew as an additional feature. Perhaps that could work. He pulled it out of its place and tried to piece the quilt and the bracelet together.

It didn’t work.

Keith groaned, feeling frustrated. He dropped the knife and said fuck it, let’s do it with the fingers. Carefully, he crossed a blue thread over a red one, then blue over red, then blue over red. Then he tied a knot, and repeated the process.

By the time he ran out of thread, the bracelet was attached to the quilt. It was loose, but it wouldn’t fall on its own. Blue and red, woven in together.

Keith raised from his crouch, joints complaining for having been in such an uncomfortable position for so long. He took a step backward and —

Falling.

He was falling.

His vision went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now, to those who have already watched kimi no na wa, this chapter was definitely more painful than in the movie. but sue me, i got attached to the mcclains. for those who haven't watched it, i recommend not doing it yet, because the fic moves differently than the original work and trust me, you'll want to reach the end without knowing anything first.
> 
> i can't stress this enough. thank you so much for all of your support. every little comment, even if i don't reply to it (mostly to avoid giving anything away lol), makes me so happy and fills me with the motivation to finish each chapter. i love you guys, you're all amazing to me and never forget to tell me if something bothered you or if there are any mistakes.
> 
> also, we have more art! i can't believe it?? i'm gonna list the artwork here:
> 
> [lance and keith listening to each other on the phone (chapter 5)](http://salamandraimoral.tumblr.com/post/161978064087/commission-for-angejolras-who-won-the-giveaway-a) by [@salamandraimoral](http://salamandraimoral.tumblr.com)  
> [keith checking out his ass in the mirror after lance wrote comepinga on it (chapter 1) + adorable lance holding blue as he walks down the beach (chapter 6 bonus)](http://littlelyn100.tumblr.com/post/162092299718/so-i-binge-read-a-fanfiction-by-angejolras-called) by [@littlelyn100](http://littlelyn100.tumblr.com)  
> [keith crumbling down when all of lance's notes are erased from his phone (chapter 8)](http://notshort-verticallychallenged.tumblr.com/post/162076121999/i-swear-in-your-shoes-by-angejolras-is-literally) by [@notshort-verticallychallenged](http://notshort-verticallychallenged.tumblr.com)


	10. the problem with meteor showers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith takes a magical trip down memory lane. Includes rug burn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know. i'm late, it's like 1am, but whatever. on saturday, i'm officially moving away for college and i'm having a sleepover tomorrow, so i thought 'fuck it, write as much as you can tonight'. so, here is a piece to ease all the pain i have caused you. i'm so sorry for that guys, i kinda got addicted to the angst. shame on me.
> 
> also this story is almost at 10k hits??? i can't express how much love i feel for all of you guys. your comments, everything, it just makes writing this story worth it. i wish i could reply to all of your comments without giving anything away. i love you all.
> 
> if you want to get a feel for this chapter, listen to [meteor shower](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bwzhdRubxFo) by owl city, which has a great vibe to to this fic and like? the title?? and if you want to get them feels, listen to [spring day](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9WsiTaSsdck) by bts. these songs aren't sad per se, but very relaxed and nice to listen to, so check them out if you want to!

Light cut through the darkened sky in a thin, bright line, fading into a flaming red at its end. It was blinding, captivating, like tracing white paint over a wet black canvas and watching the color expand.

Keith was still falling when it dawned on him: It was the Tiamat. This was the comet that destroyed an entire town.

His frantic eyes scanned his surroundings. In the middle of a free fall through the night sky, the stars almost opaque in comparison to the light running across the Earth’s surface. Keith squinted. He could faintly make out the land beneath him, too high to know how close he was to hitting the ground. There was no parachute, no wings to keep him afloat. All he could do was fall.

He felt his left wrist tingling. There was a hot pressure on his skin, like a rug burn that wouldn’t stop. He raised his hand in shock. The blue bracelet he’d been wearing was undone, one of the ends extending in a straight line for miles, almost as if someone was holding it up away from Keith.

Before he knew it, the threads of the bracelet began to give out and he was tugged into a hospital room.

Keith blinked, confused. Was this another dream?

On the bed laid a woman with very light brown hair pulled into a braid, wearing a hospital gown. Next to her on the mattress sat a man with darker skin and a thick moustache, two young children pulled into his lap. In the woman’s arms, a newborn baby.

Small blue eyes opened to see the world for the first time, and Keith realized that the baby was Lance.

He didn’t open his mouth to cry, or made any sound at all. He just stared at his family, with eyes lighter than they would be in the future, with tiny fingers curled into fists. He just stared, blinking, fascinated by the world he had been brought into.

Wind gushed past Keith’s side and the image faded away. He was falling again, the comet advancing in its path. Then Keith was pulled by the wrist into another memory.

The air smelt like salt, and once again he was blinded by bright light. But this wasn’t the comet, it was the sun. Hot in a summer day, blaring its rays down on the beach. Splashing and giggles could be heard from his side, and that’s where he found Lance.

He was older now, but still a child. Couldn’t have been older than Emilio. He was so small and skinny, the only fat in his buddy accumulated in his cheeks. An older boy, a teenager, held him by the waist above the turquoise water. A few meters further into the sea, a girl stood with her legs bent, bikini-clad, and an encouraging smile on her lips.

 _“¡Vamo’ pues, guapo!”_ Keith heard the girl yell, moving her hands in a beckoning motion. Lance’s eyes darted between the water and the person holding him. Keith’s legs wouldn’t move, cutting down his attempt to get a better look at the teenagers. Back at the hospital, in the previous memory, there were also two kids with Lance. They must’ve been the twins, his older siblings.

Lance was lowered into the shallow end, his scrawny legs kicking at the waves frantically. He turned to see the older boy laughing softly, ruffling Lance’s short hair once he was firmly standing on the wet sand.

_“Dale pa’lante, gato.”_

Lance’s eyes narrowed in determination and took a dramatic gulp of air. In a swift movement he dived in, legs kicking and arms cutting through the water. His head lifted once every two strokes, quickly taking up air. His direction was a bit off, Keith noted, but his sister made up for it by moving to the side.

He almost collided with her, emerging only when her arms lifted him up. Lance coughed, bringing his hands to rub the salt off his eyes. He blinked to find a pair of almost-identical grins, both of his siblings jumping excitedly in celebration. Lance turned back to the shore, where he’d been standing mere seconds before, now a considerable distance away from where he floated.

His lips pulled into a beaming smile and began jumping as well.

Keith couldn’t keep the smile off his face, either. Lance looked so happy, so proud of himself. His first time conquering the ocean.

Cords burned against his wrist and he was sent reeling through the sky, following the blue thread into another memory. He knew the house they were in, and he knew this room. It wasn’t as messy as he was used to, nor did it have as much stuff. It looked bare, unfinished, unpersonalized, with Lance’s Power Rangers sheets being the only thing that marked it as a young boy’s room.

Lance leaned against the window facing a cloudless sky, perfect for stargazing. Beside him stood his mother, hair loose and barefooted, just like her son.

_“¿Mami?”_

_“Dime, tesoro.”_

_“I know what I want to be when I grow up.”_

_“That is great news, mijo. It is okay if you change your mind later, but I am proud of you for knowing this now. What do you want to be, then?”_

Lance hesitated. _“Can I say in Spanish?”_

 _“You shouldn’t.”_ Carmen reminded him softly. _“Try to say as much as you can in English. You need to start getting used to it, preferably before the school year starts.”_

Her son huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. _“No me gusta el inglés.”_

_“No one said you had to like it.”_

_“You know…“_ Lance scowled, concentrating as if trying to physically grab the words inside his brain. _“Y’know, yesterday, when I was in Hunk’s house. And he, uh, his moms? They got a telescope for him! It was so cool, mami. We looked the moon, and the planets, and the stars. I love the stars. I want a telescope, too, because the stars are pretty. Pretty like Plaxum! Plaxum, you know her, no? She swims with me in school —“_

 _“I’m sure Plaxum is a lovely girl,”_ Carmen interrupted. _“But that wasn’t what you wanted to tell me, was it?”_

 _“Oh. Uh, I want to be an, an…a? No, it’s an. I want to be —_ ” Lance stomped on his feet and groaned. _“I can’t remember the word. Not even in Spanish.”_

_“Try explaining it instead.”_

_“I want to be a pilot, but no airplane. Fly to the stars?”_

Carmen let out a breathy laugh, pulling Lance closer to her side. _“You want to be an astronaut, baby?”_

Lance perked up. _“Yes, an astronaut! Can I be one?”_

_“You can be whatever you want to be, Lance.”_

Rug burn, more tugging. The memory broke apart at the seams, as if the image itself was built of fabric and being torn to shreds. By now, Keith had already given up fighting the cords. If the bracelet wanted to take him on a tour through Lance’s happiest memories, he wasn't going to complain.

Then he found himself in a dark room, behind a closed door. Outside, shouting that grew louder by the second. Lance, curled up into himself with a much younger Amanda pressing her face into his side.

What he saw next was not a happy memory.

Outside, the sound of a chair scrapping the floor and a deep, rumbling voice. _“If you want to be a cop so bad, then do it in this town. I am not going to fund your education elsewhere.”_

 _“Good thing I don’t need your money,”_ the other person bit back, high-pitched and angry. _“It’s a full ride, dad. I’m moving to L.A with Sidney and nothing you say will make me change my mind.”_

_“I won't let you move to a big city, Deborah. Do you have any idea how dangerous they can be—?”_

_“So what, Dante can be whatever the hell he wants in Seattle — fucking Seattle, that’s in Washington, goddamnit — but I can’t move somewhere else in the same damn state? You’re a fucking hypocrite—“_

Crash. Glass shattering on the ceramic tiles. Lance flinching and pressing Amanda tighter against him.

_“Don’t come back to me crying when life isn’t what you wanted it to be.”_

_“Felipe, don’t say anything you might regret.”_

_“Not now, Carmen.”_

_“You’re just saying all this shit—“_

_“Watch your damn language, girl.”_

_“— Because, for once, life isn’t going according to your plans!”_

Keith watched as Lance raised to his feet, wobbling in the dark until he hit the edge of his mattress, then jumping over it to rummage under a corner. Meanwhile, Amanda hugged her knees to her chest, arms wrapped around herself as the yelling grew louder.

Lance came back to the door seconds later, fist curled tightly around a small device. He plopped down in front of his sister, lightly removing her arms and raising her head. In his palm laid an old iPod Nano, that old candybar blue that hurt your eyes, and a set of white headphones.

_“Want to listen to some music with me?”_

Amanda nodded, lips pouty and eyes slightly pink. Lance sat beside her again, pressing the bud into her ear and putting on his own before unlocking the device. He handed it over to the little girl, allowing her to scroll through his library and pick the music herself.

Music drowned out the rest of their world.

Before Keith realized it, he’d been pulled through the memory and into a new one, the air leaving his lungs with the force of the pull.

He knew as soon as he opened his eyes that this wouldn’t be a happy memory either.

Wooden benches, marble walls and intricate, colorful designs on windows for a place that looked devoid of color. Down a tiled corridor, past the rows of black dresses and formal suits, up to where a golden cross hung. There, in the middle, a closed casket.

Keith felt himself be pushed forward, moving without actually doing so, until he was suddenly standing before the front row, before Lance.

He’d never seen him look so drained, so unkempt. Those blue eyes, always shining bright and hopeful, were now void and unseeing. His face looked puffy, greasy, deep bags under his eyes and chapped lips. His chestnut hair stood at all ends, all over the place. Even his suit was rumpled, tie looser around his neck than it should be and shirt half-tucked into his pants.

Keith had a feeling he knew who laid inside the casket.

Unable to move, to reach out and comfort him, Keith could only watch as an older guy approached Lance, looking even worse for wear. Brown eyes, thin eyebrows, upturned nose, pointed chin. Dante McClain.

 _“Hey, hermanito.”_ Dante sat down in the pew. _“¿Cómo andas?”_

 _“¿Cómo crees?”_ Lance replied without taking his eyes off the altar.

Dante clicked his tongue, shoulders slumped. He rested his head on the back of the bench, looking up at the open ceiling. Neither of them said a word.

Keith felt awkward, frustrated by not doing anything but standing there, watching the light drain from Lance minute by minute. Soft tapping of piano keys could be heard from afar, probably someone playing by the entrance or a recording from the speakers. For the longest time they sat there, no one else approached the pair.

“ _Papá didn’t come.”_

Slowly, Dante moved his head to the side to get a look at his brother. _“No, he didn’t.”_

_“Why.”_

_“Why he didn’t come?”_

Lance nodded.

_“He’s angry — angry at the world, angry at her. Most of all, though, I think he’s angry at himself.”_

_“He should be.”_ Lance whispered, hands balled into tight fists, leg bouncing. _“Last time he saw her, he treated her like shit.”_

Dante placed a hand on his knee, effectively cutting off the bouncing. Lance looked up at him with wide eyes.

 _“He’s going to isolate himself.”_ Dante told him. _“He probably hates himself for letting her go to L.A.”_

“But that was — it was her choice,” Lance argued. His tongue felt heavy, so he didn’t say her name. “He couldn’t have prevented this, either. She chose to save people instead of saving herself.”

Dante noted the bitterness dripping from the last sentence and slid closer to his brother. _“She didn’t choose to die, Lance. You understand that, right? Accidents happen.”_

_“That bastard shot her, Dante —“_

_“And still she managed to be a hero. Debbie did what she wanted to do, and I’ll be damned if I ever hold that against her.”_

Lance dropped his head, bottom lip quivering. _“H-how do you deal with this, hermano? I feel like I need to keep crying but I don’t have any tears left.”_

Dante brought a hand to stroke Lance’s tangled hair. _“I get that. I don’t know how to feel, actually. I’ve never been without her, like, truly without her. It’s like a half of myself has been ripped away, and I don’t think I’ll ever get that part back.”_

Without warning, Lance threw himself at his brother, flinging his arms around his neck as his chest heaved with dry sobs. Dante pulled him close wordlessly, burying his head in the crook of his shoulder.

Keith felt like an intruder.

_“Are you coming home now?”_

_“I can’t.”_

Dante pulled back slightly, pressing his forehead to his little brother’s. He took a deep breath, steeling himself before speaking. _“What I’m about to say needs to stay a secret for a while, okay? You’re actually the first to know this. Besides Debbie, of course.”_

Lance cocked his head in confusion.

_“Renée’s pregnant.”_

_“You’re gonna be a father?”_ Lance spluttered.

Dante chuckled. _“And you’re gonna be an uncle.”_

_“Oh my God, I’m going to be an uncle. You’re having a kid, what the hell. Am I supposed to feel old? Mami’s gonna be a grandma after this—“_

_“Tell me something.”_ Dante’s eyes searched his brother’s face. _“Do you still want to be an astronaut?”_

He frowned, taken aback. _“Well, yes.”_

“ _Papá will fight you. He’ll try to keep you from going, you know this. But I want you to remember that what happened to Debbie should never keep you from chasing your dreams, hermanito. She would want you to fight.”_

Lance stared, blinking rapidly, wet blue eyes and a quivering lip. He nodded his head once, twice, then over and over as his shoulders shook. Dante’s lips curved into a fond smile.

_“Never give up on your dreams, gato.”_

Pull. Shove. Slam. Keith squinted at the bright sun, head spinning as he crashed into another piece of Lance’s life and he thinks _Please, just one good memory._

Pale blue sky spread before him, almost cloudless in the beginnings of summer. Keith blinked at the dry grass beneath his feet, the one he cannot feel but knows the smell of. He managed to turn around and face the street. Down his side of the highway, a long squat building with fences made to be skipped over. Across the road, the familiar sight of a wooden bench and a lamppost.

Last time he stood here, he found a deserted town to look down on. This time, he found Lance McClain sitting anxiously in front of him, leg bouncing insistently and hands fidgeting with the bracelet on his wrist.

He looked just like the last time he saw him. Long jean-cladded limbs, the sharp upturned nose, his wind-swiped hair, that clear skin he worked so hard to maintain. Lance had never been so real yet felt so far. Keith wanted to run, to tackle him and touch him so he could make sure he was actually there, right in front of him. And yet his feet wouldn’t budge.

Not a minute later, a large bus rolled in, much like the ones Keith, Shiro and Allura had been riding in the day before. Lance practically jumped out of his seat, bouncing impatiently on the balls of his feet until the doors opened.

Keith felt a tug on his wrist, and he moved. It wasn’t voluntary, he hadn’t even realized he’d been walking until he had rounded the bus and was faced with metal steps. His eyes dropped to his wrist. The blue bracelet was leading him to the bus, leading him to Lance, like a thread that connected them both.

 _Seems legit_ , he thought as the door closed behind him.

Lance sat near the back, forehead pressed against the glass of the window, with a set of big black headphones on his head. He held his cellphone in one hand, and for the first time Keith noticed how much older than his own phone this model was. Of course, there are thousands of people who don’t change theirs as soon as new one comes out, but it was a reminder of the time between them.

In a way, he guessed that the Lance he was seeing wasn’t actually real. As much as he wanted him to be, this was a memory.

There was no time to wonder where Lance was headed. In the blink of an eye, the bus came to a halt and Lance was already climbing down the steps. Wide-eyed, Keith raced to catch up to him.

_Oh._

He watched Lance scan a board with narrowed eyes, bottom lip sticking out slightly in what Keith remembered to be his ‘thinking face’. Blue eyes moved between schedules and bus lines, marked routes and timestamps.

Keith’s head throbbed like someone had smashed a brick against his skull. _When the hell had Lance gone to San Francisco? Why the fuck didn’t he tell me?_ He wouldn’t have forgotten something as big is this. He couldn’t have, right? If Lance had been here, Keith would have known.

He followed Lance into a trolley and then the railway, lurked behind him as he passed through the streets without faltering, taking deliberate turns and not pausing to take in his surroundings. As they passed a familiar convenience store, Keith realized too late where Lance was headed.

Anxiety bubbled in him, his headache becoming stronger the closer Lance came to the front door of their apartment. Long fingers curled in a fist, hesitantly rapping against the wooden door.  
Keith knew there would be no answer.

Lance bounced against, unable to keep himself still, rolling his shoulders and cracking his knuckles one by one, waiting by himself in the hallway. He’d give up soon enough, Keith told himself. At least, he hoped so. He didn’t think he could stand watching a disappointed Lance stand for hours in front of an empty apartment.

Considering Lance’s timeline, this wouldn’t be his and Shiro’s place for at least a couple of months. After the death of their parents, Shiro went through a good number of surgeries and intense physiotherapy. He’d been barely a rookie officer back then, and the station couldn’t hold an empty desk until Shiro’s rehabilitation was over and done with. Mostly because they didn’t think he’d return, and at the time, Shiro hadn’t thought so either.

Keith was just starting high school, and the most he could get was a part-time as a cashier at Costco. Shiro spent most of his time at the hospital, and Keith found himself at the Holts’s residence more often than not. Within time, their two-story house in Portola Drive became too big for them. Before December, Shiro sold what used to be their home and signed up for an experimental prosthetics program. They spent Christmas on their own inside their new apartment, surrounded by unopened boxes and Christmas lights tangled in the floor as they huddled together, grateful for the presence of the other in a world that felt too big and empty.

“I’m so stupid.” Lance blurted out of nowhere. Keith whipped his head at the boy, shaken away from his own memories. He watched Lance turn in a haste, skipping down the rattly stairs. “Keith must be working right now.”

Another bus ride, crowded streets, and Keith saw Lance hesitate before the establishment. Avoiding the front door, he stopped at the edge of the glass wall and pressed himself against the surface, attempting to conceal himself behind the green bushes decorating the entrance. People stared at him as they walked past, but no one stopped or said something. It was none of their business, anyway. Everyone had a life of their own and more important things to do than talk to the weird kid.

He crouched beside Lance and peered into the restaurant. There didn’t seem to be anyone inside, not even the staff. There were a couple of tables stacked on the right side, but without the lights on it was difficult to distinguish what else there was. Keith backed away from the window to look at the bold-lettered sign on the front. This was the right place, so why weren’t they open for business?

“Maybe they’re doing renovations,” Lance concluded, answering Keith’s questions without meaning to.

But as he watched a man with an uncanny resemblance to Allura exit from the back door in the alleyway — the one reserved for employees only —, it dawned on him that Altea might not have opened its doors yet.

Lance, blissfully ignorant to the man’s presence, turned on his heel and continued his spontaneous hunt. He swam through crowds, almost as gracefully and easily as he did in water, with Keith always a step or two behind him. For a second, he thought those actions felt the most familiar after all. Lance, moving forward with those long legs, and Keith, chasing after him.

Naturally, as the sunlight began to give out, so did Lance. Afternoon was threatening to turn into evening, and that fact alone made the Cuban boy halt in the middle of the street. Keith couldn’t remember how many times he’d hopped on a trolley, only to get off a few stops later and watch Lance explore the arcade Keith and Pidge went to, the station Shiro now worked at, and even his old high school.

Keith tried to remember what he had been doing the day before the accident, and came up blank.

He watched Lance pull his cellphone from his pocket, lips twisting as he frowned down at the screen. Shoving it inside with a huff, McClain reached the railway stop in a couple of long strides. The cable car rolled up the street and Lance pushed his way inside—

And then Keith felt the breath leave his lungs. He stopped living in the scene, stopped feeling himself move. Instead, he was watching a horror movie play out live (except, it couldn't have been) right before him.

There Keith stood, fifteen years old and hanging onto the metal bar above him. Those large, obnoxiously red headphones Pidge had mocked him for weeks about hung around his neck. Considering the times, whatever was coming out of the earpieces ought to have been as ‘edgy’ and ‘emo' as it could get — please note the quotation marks.

Lance seemed to be just as horrified as Keith himself was. Or maybe it was just shock.

Slowly, hesitantly, Lance positioned himself right in front of fifteen-year-old Keith. Lance looked a good head taller than him, broader, and distinctively older. He looked like someone who’d gone through a successful puberty, whereas Keith sported a pimple the size of Arizona on his left cheek.

Lance nudged him with his foot.

Young Keith looked down at his boots for a split second, then looked away, dismissing the touch off-handedly.

Lance nudged him again.

This time, Keith glared at the boy in front of him. “Could you stop that?”

“Hey,” Lance replied lamely.

Eyes narrowed, then looked away.

Lance moved closer, unwilling to go down so easily but with a hint of concern in those baby blue eyes. “Hey,” he tried again.

“What?” Keith snapped.

“Keith, come on.” Lance laughed nervously. “It’s me.”

“Am I supposed to know who you are?”

Keith considered pushing his younger self out of the moving vehicle himself. _What the fuck, dude. Gorgeous guy approaches you and you shun him out? You’re doing great, Kogane._

Lance however, paled at his words. “You don’t remember me. Are you serious?”

“Yes?” Keith frowned. “I’m sorry, man, but I don’t know you.”

The cable car shook, suddenly halting. Lance glanced out the window with wide eyes. This was his stop.

“Right, of course.” He began backing away, wry smile attempting to look sheepish, and made his way to the exit. “Sorry to have bothered you.”

 _Follow him_ , Keith wanted to scream.

And he did, at least to the exit. Keith did not get down, for there were still a couple of stops until he reached his place, but he leaned far out enough to catch Lance by the wrist before he stepped down completely.

“Wait. Who are you?”

Lance slipped away, turning on his heel once he hit the streets, his smile more sincere this time as he shouted back “The name’s Lance!”

The cable car moved upwards, and Lance began his walk down the hill. Keith stared after his retreating form, fifteen years old and confused, with a braided bracelet held between his fingertips.

The memory faded away abruptly, and when Keith blinked, he was suddenly standing on the boardwalk. Lance stood beside him, eyes wide and mouth parted as he stared up at the dark sky in ridiculously short shorts and a fucking undercut (and like, when did that happen?), mesmerized by the light show before him.

He could hear Hunk and Shay whispering behind him, but Keith didn’t even have time to think about that. Lance looked beautiful beside him, and the comet in the sky was splitting.

Lance’s gasp was the last thing he heard and then—

_Wake up._

His eyes shot open.

This time, there was no cord leading him, pulling him. There was no sky, no meteor, no free falling. He felt like he could move, like he existed.

He woke up.

Keith’s chest heaved, feelings though he had run a marathon. He blinked, trying to clear his vision and found himself beneath a ceiling of plastic stars.

He didn’t dare hope.

Slowly, he brought his arms up closer to his face, feeling his stomach tighten at the brown skin covering them. He ran his fingers through short hair, much shorter than his. He felt a warm presence on his side and sighed with relief when he spotted white fur curled into a tight ball.

His eyes went back to the glowing plastic stars above him.

Keith laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _¡Vamo' pues, guapo! - Come on then, handsome (term of endearment)_   
>  _Dale pa'lante, gato - Go ahead/Move forward, cat (in some latino countries, "gato" is a nickname for people who have light coloured eyes, be it green or blue, and it's used as a term of endearment)_   
>  _Hey, hermanito. ¿Cómo andas? - Hey little brother, how are you holding up?_   
>  _¿Cómo crees? - How do you think?_
> 
>  
> 
>    
> i'm truly, really sorry for the delay, but there were some parts i couldn't get through and ok, that was part why i'm late, but also i owe you honesty. so here's the truth: i've fallen into kpop hell. well, not really, but i have recently gotten myself into the one thing i always told myself to never get into. i have found bts, fallen in love with their music, lyrics, dance, hard work and personalities. i told myself not to, said "romina, don't do this", but it's happened. 
> 
> i am thirsty as hell for kim taehyung because he is exactly the man i want to have in my life and now i can't stop watching their videos for more than five minutes. i'm so sorry if the next updates are as slow as this but, you have to understand guys. seriously, watch a single video and you will know _why_ i now have a problem. and i can admit that i have a problem, because i do, but i'm happy as hell with this 7-person-problem, so who wins in the end?
> 
> i'll try to get the next chapter soon. i promise. get ready for the mcclains again!!

**Author's Note:**

> come talk to me on [tumblr](http://angejolras.tumblr.com)!


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